#and requiring women in churches to do everything through their husbands is a) not in the scriptures | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

allthesapphicstars · 4 years

Note

In the books it's Mrs Coulter who decides she doesn't want anything to do with baby Lyra after the scandal, that's why she's given to Lord Asriel, not the other way around. The show changed this (and her character) completely. After the trial Lord Asriel is declared unfit for parenting and Lyra is given to a nunnery, but he decides to 'kidnap' her and brings her to Jordan College. And it's not like Lord Asriel is not left crawling as well, he used to be as rich as a king, after Lyra he had to swallow his pride and go beg colleges for funding (even 12 years later), whereas Mrs. Coulter (now a widow and free) is given funding by the Magisterium itself, so again, in the books she does achieve what she wants, in unconventional ways maybe, but she has her own research department and is never seen as subordinate to any man, until book 3 at least. And most importantly, in the books she subdues to no man, let alone Boreal. He's literally her puppet in the books 😔

I think you raise some good points here. But I want to say that my post about Marisa and the patriarchy was very much my own opinion and interpretation of both the books and the show from my own perspective as a woman having lived the experiences I have. That being said I do think I should go through your points and explain my own reasoning behind my interpretation.

1) Who got to take care of Lyra.

I never actually said that Asriel didn't want anything to do with Lyra. I do believe that both of them, in their own ways, do love and care about Lyra. They're just not very good at it.

But in terms of who took care of Lyra after she was born that responsibility immediately fell to Asriel. And there are probably lots of reasons for this. But, for me, I don't think that it was ever really a consideration or much of an option for Mrs Coulter to do so because of the environment of their world.

Marisa was married and had an affair that produced a child. In their world, women are second class citizens in comparison to men and as such any power or financial security that she may have would have been derived from her position as a wife. And a wife to a powerful man. To be able to keep a child requires resources that she would have only been able to get through her husband.

We know that Mrs Coulter kept her affair and also her child a secret because it would have ruined her. But also, I don't think we should forget, that she kept Lyra a secret from her husband to protect her too. As when Mr Coulter found out about the affair and Lyra he went to Asriel's house to kill them both, but Asriel got there first.

If you consider this, then Marisa wasn't really given much of a choice about what to do with Lyra. If she'd taken care of her herself then it's likely that her husband would have banished her from his home and therefore stopped her access to any resources, or he would have killed the child. Neither of those options look particularly good if you ask me.

Asriel's decision to "kidnap" Lyra and get her to Jordan is, to me, an act of desperation to protect his child in the same vein as Marisa's decision to not care for her herself.

Don't forget, by this point Marisa has been marked as an adulterer and a widow and is a pariah to most of society. She's also no longer under the protection of a man which is why the magisterium don't allow her to take Lyra back into her custody but instead give her to the nunnery.

Neither of Lyra's parents have many options when it comes to custody because of the patriarchal structure of their world. (although I highly doubt Marisa would have been let off as lightly as Asriel was in terms of breaking the rules about Lyra)

2) Asriel also had to crawl his way back.

Yes. You're right, Asriel did have to work his way back up to respected by society again. But as you yourself pointed out, his main obstacle was the loss of his money.

Asriel still retains his title. His academic standing is relatively untouched. He may have to beg to get funding but so does pretty much everyone trying to get funding tbh. The college's still listen to what he has to say. His name carries weight.

Let's compare this to what Marisa lost in the scandal. Yes, she didn't lose all of her finances like Asriel. But with the death of Mr Coulter she lost the male presence that in their society allowed her access to so many places. Without a husband she doesn't have the same security that she did before. She also lost her reputation, which for a woman (and not just in their world) is detrimental in how she is treated.

When I say that Marisa had to claw her way back into society I really do mean it. She wasn't just struggling to get finances like Asriel, she was struggling to be listened to, to be respected, to have any form of control over her life that having power gives you. Their world is deeply misogynistic so anything that Asriel struggled to gain, Marisa would have had to work against the same odds but also factor in her gender setting her back deeply.

3) freedom

Honestly I can't agree with your statement that Marisa is more free compared to Asriel.

Ok, so yes, Marisa gets funding from the Magisterium but that is explicitly because she is doing research that they want doing (experimenting with the concept of removing sin by cutting children) that they don't want to be seen doing because it's barbaric. Her research funding comes directly from the fact that as a woman, who's a pariah and not a member of the church authority, if what they were doing was made public she's easily expendable. Someone that they can deny ever colluding with. And Marisa knows this. She knows how vulnerable her position within the church really is. That the power the church gives her is an illusion.

So she creates her own power through using what condemned her in the eyes of the church against them. Her ability to seduce. They view her as a wanton adulterer so she uses that fear of her sexuality to arouse and then manipulate the men in power.

But this doesn't mean she not seen as a subordinate to a man. She 100% is. She has to answer to the male heads of the church. And is expected to bow down to their will when they change their minds. She doesn't have this freedom to do what she wants with her research that you say because she always has to justify her actions to a man.

4) Boreal

Boreal is not her puppet. Yes, he does do what she wants but that's because of his attraction to her. He doesn't submit to her desires because he respects her. He definitely doesn't do it because he sees her as an equal.

Boreal does what Marisa wants because he thinks that as a man he has more power over her. He submits to her whims because he think that if he plays along with her wishes and appeases her, gives her the illusion of having control over him, he'll be more attractive to her. All of Boreal's motivations come from wanting to sleep with her. And actually I'd argue that even more than that, Boreal is a collector (and this is something that the show drew on in the last episode) he wants to be able to say that he triumphed by being the first man to fully get Mrs Coulter to submit. He wants to own her.

And Marisa is fully aware of this. And yes, whilst being aware of how one is being manipulated does give you some power over the person doing the manipulating, it still doesn't negate the fact that the entitlement to her as a person that Boreal expresses comes directly from how their society views women.

Marisa's sexuality is both a weapon and also a cage. And I'm not going to go further into that here because tbh it's like a whole post on it's own and this is already way too long. (and also it makes me sad and stressed to think about).

I did just want to add on though to your comment about book three being the first time Marisa submits herself to a man. As you can probably guess I don't agree with that assessment, she is constantly having to submit herself to men and you can tell that it wears her down even if she pretends she's above it.

But even if you don't see all of her interactions as reflecting this then the scenes I think your referencing to in book three really do reinforce that submission is not a new act she's had to play. When Marisa is in Asriel's fortress and talks about playing the demure and naive woman with the generals, and even with Asriel (yes I know he's aware that she's manipulating him but I also think he's not aware of just how much), shows that it's not a new concept to her. It's definitely something she's had to do before. And honestly I think it's something she's had to do her whole life.

To summarise: yes Mrs Coulter is a figure of power in the books and is a master manipulator. But that doesn't mean she isn't constantly struggling against a world that condemns her as inferior because she's a woman. She's judged harsher because of her sex.

And you can't forget we only get her point of view in book three, but throughout the series you can see how her being a woman holds her back from everything that she wants to achieve and I still believe that going up against those struggles is a direct impact on her actions and who she is as a person.

She's spent her whole life fighting. And I think there's something really tragic about that.

#mrs coulter #marisa coulter #his dark materials #his dark materials meta #hdm series 2 #hdm #lord asriel #long post #anon answered #sorry i have a lot of feelings about mrs coulter ok #hdm analysis

78 notes · View notes

dwellordream · 3 years

Text

“…sex was not, in fact “treated with the utmost reverence” by “our ancestors” in the Christian West. Sex was, instead treated in a highly ambivalent way. To be sure, from a Christian theological standpoint there was an ideal way to approach sex. That was not to have it. The ideal individual would devote their life to God as a member of the clergy and simply opt out of the whole sex thing. This is because sex, and the attendant pleasure that individuals experienced as a part of it, was a direct result of the Fall of Man. Had Eve never eaten that damn apple, it would have been possible, according to St Augustine, to have sex without experiencing pleasure.

…So ideal individuals were those who were wary of any sort of sexual contact, eschewed it, and devoted their lives to worshipping God in the clergy. On the other hand, new humans had to be made, so some people were going to have to have sex. The way to control for the sinful and lustful nature of sex, according to the clergy, was for those individuals to get married and have sex specifically and only with each other whilst also attempting to procreate. Any sex that couldn’t lead to children was sodomy. Sodomy was always forbidden. Sex should always theoretically result in more children. Any other type of sex, whether extramarital or sodomitical should be confessed and repented for.

So this is all well and good and very cute of the Catholic Church to state. Trouble is, that you can’t actually dictate that this happen because it turns out people really really like sex. Like, a lot. For a start, while the clergy were meant to be acting as arbiters of sexual impurity as well as celibate examples for ordinary people, they pretty famously were not always great on that one.

Indeed before the Gregorian Reforms of the eleventh century there were plenty of clergy members who were married themselves and having plenty of sex. So much so that the moral authority of the clergy was under question to the point that the Gregorian Reforms were, you know, required. Pope Gregory VII (c. 1015-1085) thus duly made one of the most successful pushes for clerical celibacy and from that point onward clergy members were supposed to keep it in their pants.

This did not work. Clergy members kept on having sex. Sometimes they had sex with each other and wrote sweet little love notes about it. Sometimes they had sex with women living alongside them as their concubines. Sometimes they had sex with the sex workers who were considered absolutely necessary by Church authorities to the ordering of society.

…Obviously, then even clergy members were never totally celibate. Sure, they wished to be, and sometimes even strove to be, but the lascivious clergy member was common enough that it is a trope in medieval literature. There is a reason that we see nuns harvesting the penises from the tree in BNF Roman de la Rose manuscript is what I am saying.

Of course there is also all of the non-clergy members to consider. Spoiler: they were also not great at the whole only having sex within marriage and specifically in order to get pregnant thing. The thing is that although sex within marriage was allowed, it was just considered fundamentally not that sexy.

Indeed, while marriage was very much considered a religious state, so too was it seen as a specific contract between families. Marriages, especially among the upper classes were frequently conducted for business or dynastic reasons and it was entirely normal for people to end up married to individuals that were not necessarily their first choices.

It is for this reason that the entire genre of courtly love literature sprang up. You know, the entire corpus of medieval works about having sex with women who were married to someone else? Yes. That. Because sex with one’s husband was a duty that one participated in. Sex with one’s lover was about, well, love. Also hot sex. Indeed the anticipation of extramarital sex was such that it was generally agreed that women groomed themselves not for their husbands, but their lovers.

…For the average person (i.e., peasants) this was, of course, not the case. Peasants and other commoners had much more freedom about who to marry, given that they weren’t busy starting wars over dynastic spats. Even there, we know that many marriages in the Early Modern period between common people, as many as one in five were conducted when the bride was already pregnant, which we assume pretty safely holds true of the medieval period. The flip side of this is that plenty of women also found themselves pregnant with men who would not end up becoming their husbands.

Sex, then, wasn’t something that was treated as a sacred covenant by everyone. Did the Church want you to? Yes obviously they did. Could they even live up to that standard themselves? No. Jesus are you joking? Sex was had where sex was had by the people who wanted to have it. Then as now.

Of course there was pushback against, you know, all the extramarital non-procreative sex. One need only to look at the penance that was meted out for women who used dildos to see that there were those in the Church who very much considered themselves engaged in a war against sex.

Thing of it is, by the very existence of such penitentials we see that there was never a point when unacceptable sex was ever totally curtailed. People were threatened with burning in hell for their lust in church frescoes because they were having unacceptable sex.

They were given penance by their priests because they were having unacceptable sex. They were lectured from the pulpit by their clergy members because they were having unacceptable sex. The very existence of correctors shows us that they were necessary because people kept violating the rules.

To ignore the nuanced and varied history of sex in order call sex now a result of the “triumph of the merchant” is to completely ignore the fact that the traditional medieval and early modern conceptions of sex within marriage were almost entirely transactional in nature. Sex, as I have argued repeatedly was very much conceptualised as an object and a debt that one person owed another within marriage. This sex was exchanged in order to secure heirs.

Moreover the promise of access to this sex was very much the means by which marriages were negotiated. Sex was a commodity traded between families and marriage the contract by which it was secured. Indeed, by saying that sex must necessarily only take place inside of a married context for the getting of heirs the very conception becomes immediately commodified and brokered between interested parties.

Equally laughable is the idea that sex was always “revered” by our Christian ancestors, belied as it is by the utter glee that they quite obviously took in profane images. Whether we are talking about obscene pilgrim badges commemorating all the sex that you may have had while away, (or the pregnancy you were hoping to secure through pilgrimage, we aren’t sure!), the marginalia of couples going down on each other, the endless parade of dicks that pop up everywhere from dragons’ hats to standing in for manicules, it is abundantly clear that medieval people also just thought sex was pretty funny. Doesn’t matter if you were a cloistered monk decorating the pages of books for the glory of god, odds are you were gonna draw a dick in there. Cuz it’s funny.

So anyway, yes clearly the idea that there is some sort of pure holy Christian past that we are straying away from is absolute nonsense and a exists only as a construct in this sad little white supremacist’s head. Indeed, if anything I would argue that we are probably more monogamous now than medieval people were. After all, the way that we currently relate to marriage is that it is a relationship wherein we are supposed to receive everything from the other person.

Our spouses are supposed to be our hottest lovers, our best friends, our family members, and if we are religious our spiritual equals. That is … way more than medieval people expected from one relationship. We are therefore becoming increasingly monogamous, asking that one relationship do more and more work for us, and edging out older traditional relationship models which include an extended family as well as the larger community. Also maybe banging that cute guy over there on the sly. Who knows!”

- Eleanor Janega, “On treating sex with the utmost reverence”.

#medieval #sexuality #religion #history #eleanor janega #marriage

8 notes · View notes

tinyshe · 3 years

Text

The chapel veil was the custom of all Catholic churches (eastern and western), everywhere in the world (including English-speaking nations) for nearly 2,000 years. The custom only fell out of use among western Catholic women, particularly in English-speaking nations, in just the last 30-40 years. Why is that?

A movement was introduced to western culture at around the same time that explains a lot of it. The movement was called feminism. Like most social movements born in the 1960s, some good did come out of it. But at the same time, some not-so-good things came out of it. On the positive side, feminism pushed for equality for women in the workplace and in government. On the negative side, feminism saddled women with burdens they never bargained for, and in some ways made their struggle worse than it was before. The long term effects of feminism (positive and negative) will be debated for decades to come, and that is not the purpose of this article. So for now, we'll leave the sociology to the sociologists.

What concerns us is feminism's effect on Catholic women in western cultures, particularly those in English-speaking nations. The most noticeable effect in such nations was the rapid disappearance of the chapel veil from mass. Almost overnight the veil was gone. This was accompanied by the release of the new Code of Canon Law in 1983, which no longer mentioned chapel veils. Since the new Code of Canon Law abrogated the older code, it was assumed by many that the custom of veiling was also abrogated, simply because it was no longer mentioned. That combined with feminist influences on Catholic women in western nations led to the popular misconception that veiling is now optional, and women are no longer required to do it. As a result, it came to be the norm for older traditional women to keep wearing the veil, while younger Catholic women discarded it completely.

The feminist transformation of western Catholic women was accomplished mainly though propaganda. It was propaganda that fit the feminist mindset very well, but actually mischaracterized and falsely represented the Catholic mindset. Women were told that the veil represented male oppression, and that a male controlled Catholic Church sought to dominate women by forcing their subjection through the symbolic act of veiling while in Church. (Now none of this is true, and if it were, yours truly would be against the chapel veil as well.) The tide of feminism was overwhelming in western culture, particularly in English-speaking nations, and as a result most Catholic women simply accepted this propaganda as truth without ever questioning it. Thirty years have gone by, and one can easily find Catholic women who still accept the propaganda without question, having never even heard a rebuttal.

It would appear the Vatican listened to the feminist movement, and did find a potential problem in the Code of Canon Law that could be made as a case to bolster the erroneous feminist argument. It was possibly for this reason the Vatican dropped the chapel veil requirement from the Code of Canon Law. Under the old Code of Canon Law, women could theoretically be forced under penalty to wear a chapel veil against their will. The problem with this was twofold. First, this canon could be used as a case to bolster the erroneous feminist argument against the chapel veil. Second, this canon actually defeated the authentic Catholic reason for veiling in the first place.

The authentic Catholic reason for wearing the chapel veil is the Biblical reason. It's just something that all Christian women (regardless of denomination) are supposed to do, not because they have to, but because they're supposed to want to. The Catholic Church has decided to no longer enforce this Biblical custom through Canon Law, and in doing so, the Church is saying it does not want to be our nanny. The chapel veil is a custom for women to do voluntarily, because they want to, not because they are being forced to. The idea is that women are to read what the Scriptures have to say, and be convicted according to what is contained therein. In order for a chapel veil to be an authentic sign of humility and holiness, it must be voluntary. Indeed, Christian women are supposed to wear one, but it is never to be forced.

The Scriptural case for the chapel veil...

1st Corinthians 11:2-16 I commend you because you remember me in everything and maintain the traditions even as I have delivered them to you...

The tradition of the chapel veil comes from Christ, by way of the Holy Spirit, through St. Paul, for Paul mentions later in this same epistle:

"What I am writing to you is a command of the Lord. If any one does not recognize this, he is not recognized."

- 1st Corinthians 14:37-38 St. Paul commends the Corinthians for keeping the chapel veil tradition, among other traditions, and then he continues in chapter 11...

....But I want you to understand that the head of every man is Christ, the head of a woman is her husband, and the head of Christ is God...

Here we have the central point of misunderstanding. This verse has been misused time and time again as a means of male superiority. Not only is this a misreading of the text, but it completely misses an important theological point Paul is trying to make. This chapter of Corinthians is entirely Eucharistic, in the sense that it centers around the Eucharistic celebration (or the mass). The following verses (17-34) deal entirely with the celebration of Holy Communion. When Paul says the head of every man is Christ, what he's saying is that Christ came in the form of a man. He's making a statement about the incarnation. He's saying that Christ came in human form, and because of this, the man becomes a physical representation of Christ -- particularly if he is a husband. When he says the head of every woman is her husband, he is not saying that women are inferior to men in any way. What he's saying is that if a husband becomes the physical representation of Christ's incarnation, than his wife becomes the physical representation of Christ's spouse -- or the Church. When Paul says "husband" here, he is referring both to earthly husbands, and to Christ himself. That being the case, wives take on the symbolic role of the Church. Paul continues in chapter 11...

...Any man who prays or prophesies with his head covered dishonors his head, but any woman who prays or prophesies with her head unveiled dishonors her head...

Again, this goes straight back to the incarnation. All of this is a symbol of what we Catholic Christians believe about Christ, his incarnation, and the Eucharist. Paul tells us that if a man covers his head during mass, he dishonors his spiritual "head" which is Christ. In other words, a man who covers his head during mass dishonors Christ, because his action of veiling himself sends the physical statement that Christ was not incarnate as a man. The woman, on the other hand, representing the Church, ought to cover her head because if she believes that Christ is truly incarnate, she should veil herself as a sign that the Church has been made holy by Christ as his spouse. In doing so she honors Christ as a symbol of his sanctification on the Church. She also honors her husband with a physical sign that he represents Christ, because Christ came in the form of a man. The chapel veil is a sign of holiness because Christ has made his Church holy, and women represent the Church as the "bride" of Christ. It is a sign that the Church is covered and under Christ's protection. This is the symbolism of the Church's relationship to Christ. It is not so much a statement of a particular woman's holiness, but rather the Church's holiness. Paul continues...

-- it is the same as if her head were shaven. For if a woman will not veil herself, then she should cut off her hair; but if it is disgraceful for a woman to be shorn or shaven, let her wear a veil...

Here Paul is really laying it on think, and he has good reason. He's trying to convey a big theological point. Customs in the church are not the result of random happenstance. These things exist for a reason. Under the Old Covenant, both Jewish men and women covered their heads during worship, but the early Jewish Christians changed that custom for a reason. They wanted to make this practice of veiling a symbol of Christ's incarnation, like they did with so many other Jewish traditions, and as Paul mentions in chapter 14 (cited above) these things are not trivial man-made customs, they came from the Holy Spirit Himself. Here Paul is telling us that it is shameful for a Christian woman not to cover her head during mass, and he is using an illustration from antiquity that has to do with punishment. In ancient times, women would have their heads shaved publicly as punishment for lack of modesty. It was a form of public humiliation. Here Paul is not advocating the shaving of a woman's head for refusing to wear the chapel veil, but rather, he is trying to convey the seriousness of the imagery. When a Christian woman refuses to do this, she is in effect saying (though perhaps not intentionally) that Christ was not incarnate in the form of a man. Granted, in modern times this is almost certainly not the intention of any woman who refuses to veil during mass, but what Paul is telling us here is that every custom in the Church has meaning, and because of that, failure to keep those customs also has meaning, whether one intends to convey that meaning or not. It's sort of like bowing, kneeling or genuflecting before the Eucharist for example. Catholics do these things in mass for a reason, and that reason is to stress the real presence of Christ in the blessed sacrament. In practice, we are bowing, kneeling and genuflecting before our God and King, whom we profess to be really and truly present in the sacrament of the Holy Eucharist. That being the case, if one fails to bow, kneel and genuflect, what kind of signal does that send to those around him/her? One may not intend to send any signals of disrespect, but invariably one can, whether one intends to or not. The custom of the chapel veil has similar significance. Paul continues....

...For a man ought not to cover his head, since he is the image and glory of God; but woman is the glory of man. (For man was not made from woman, but woman from man. Neither was man created for woman, but woman for man.) That is why a woman ought to have a veil on her head, because of the angels....

Here we have another commonly abused passage. Again, Paul is not trying to bolster male dominance here. Remember, we have to keep the context of this chapter in mind, and the context of 1st Corinthians 11 is the Eucharistic celebration. Paul calls man the "image and glory of God" for one reason and one reason only -- because Jesus Christ (who is God) was made incarnate as a man. Then he expounds on this by pointing out that the woman is the "glory of man" (or mankind). This is meant to be a complement. Of the two human genders, women are far more "glorious" then men in their appearance, beauty, voice, fashion and general gracefulness. The hair was considered a woman's crowing glory in Biblical times (Song of Songs 6:5). Beyond that, women bear the special gift of motherhood. In that, God touches them in a way no man has ever experienced. The Scriptures tell us that God Himself fashions the unborn child in the womb, and plants a living human soul inside the body of a women when she becomes pregnant (Psalm 139:13-16). In this way, God touches the body of a woman in a way he never touches a man's body. This makes the woman's body a sacred vessel of God's creative powers. It is something that is particularly holy, and must be respected as such. It is no wonder why women are called the "fairer sex." Paul is agreeing with that here. However, Paul is also reminding women not to get too prideful. He reminds them of the Biblical story of Adam and Eve, where the woman is made to complement the man, and not vice versa. Now we learn that the chapel veil is also a sign of personal humility in addition to the Church's holiness. The woman not only covers her head as a sign of her belief in a incarnation, not only to show how Christ has made his Church holy, but also to cover her "glory," as a sign of humility to show that she is not vain or overly proud of her womanhood and beauty. The veil or headcovering is a symbol of the woman's acceptance of her role in society, the family, and the Church, in accordance with God's will. It is an imitation of the Virgin Mary, who wore such a headcovering.

Then St. Paul says something very curious. He says the woman ought to veil her head during mass "because of the angels." Paul tells us that the angels participate with us during mass, and this is reinforced by the writings of St. John:

"And another angel came and stood before the altar, having a golden censer; and there was given to him much incense that he might offer it with the prayers of all the saints upon the golden altar which is before the throne."

(Revelation 8:3, see also Matt. 18:10). The angels watch everything that is going on during mass, as they participate in the same liturgy we do. They are also well aware of the customs of the Church and what they mean -- even the custom of veiling. Angels are offended when we ignore or refuse to follow any liturgical custom, whether it be failing to kneel or veil in the presence of our Eucharistic Lord.

...(Nevertheless, in the Lord woman is not independent of man nor man of woman; for as woman was made from man, so man is now born of woman. And all things are from God.)...

If ever there was a verse to counter the abuse of male dominance, this is it. If ever there was a verse to prove that St. Paul was not a male chauvinist, this is it. Paul follows his previous verse, reminding women to be humble, with this verse, reminding men to be humble too. He doesn't want the men to use what he just wrote as a means of beating down the women in a form of male superiority. He is reminding the men that they are not superior to the women, but rather fully dependent on them, and that both genders come from God. One cannot be "better" than the other. Then he continues with some rhetorical questions to back his point...

...Judge for yourselves; is it proper for a woman to pray to God with her head uncovered? Does not nature itself teach you that for a man to wear long hair is degrading to him, but if a woman has long hair, it is her pride? For her hair is given to her for a covering....

Paul is not prohibiting hair styles here. To focus on hair styles is to miss the point. Paul is simply asking a few rhetorical questions based on popular culture. In most cultures women have longer hair then men, and when they do, it usually looks better. He's saying that when a woman has long hair it usually looks beautiful, and when a man has long hair, it usually looks a little odd. In some cultures, long hair is considered a sign of femininity. So if a man has long hair, it looks feminine in those cultures, and that is "degrading" to him. What Paul is doing here is he's appealing to nature. He's saying; "Look, even mother nature teaches us the same lesson. She gives women long hair as a covering and it looks good and proper on them." Then he concludes with this interesting verse...

...If any one is disposed to be contentious, we recognize no other practice, nor do the churches of God.

Some Bible versions have mistranslated this verse to say

"we recognize no such practice, nor do the churches of God."

This mistranslation is often used to negate the previous first half of the chapter. In other words, those who abuse such mistranslations say that Paul spent half a chapter, explaining a deep theological principle pertaining to a custom he applauds the Corinthians for keeping, only to say in this last verse that they really don't need to keep it. Such interpretations are silliness. The proper translation is rendered here as

"we recognize no other practice."

Here Paul is telling the Corinthians not to get too contentious over the chapel veil custom, because he's not going to burden them with anything else beyond that. He's not going to tell men and women how to dress. He's not going to tell them what kind of a veil they should wear, or how they should wear it. He's simply saying that this is the custom as it is practiced in the "churches of God" and they recognize no other practice beyond this.

So the chapel veil has nothing to do with male dominance. It has nothing to do with subjecting women under male authority. It has everything to do with Christ's incarnation, and the real presence of our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament.

The Bible is very clear about this. Women are supposed to veil in the presence of the Eucharist and in prayer, but at the same time, they are to take it upon themselves to do it. They are not to be forced into it by men, nor coerced into it by the Canon Law of the Church. Coercion actually defeats the whole purpose of veiling. (Which may be one reason why the custom of the veil has no place in canon law.) It has to be voluntary, if it is truly to be a sign of holiness and humility. This is why the Church removed it from Canon Law. It was not to send a signal to women that they need not do it anymore. Rather, it was to tell women that when they veil themselves, it is not because men told them to. It is a sign and symbol coming from them, voluntarily, not as a grudging requirement against their will.

Furthermore, the chapel veil is a sign of the incarnation, illustrated in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament. Women are supposed to veil in the presence of the Sacrament and in prayer before God. They are not veiling in the presence of men, nor has the tradition of the Church ever required this. The feminist propaganda was wrong. If the chapel veil were a sign of male dominance, than it would have been required in the presence of men, but it is not. Nowhere in Church history, Canon Law, or the Bible, are women required to veil in the presence of men. They are only expected to veil in the presence of our Lord.

Though the custom has generally lapsed in western cultures, particularly English-speaking nations, it is not erased entirely from the conscience of western Christians. For example; what's the first thing a Catholic mom does when her daughter is preparing for first communion and confirmation? She goes out and buys a veil. Likewise, what's one of the most important accessories to a bridal gown? Why it's the veil of course! Finally, when a baseball game or community event is opened in prayer, regardless of the religious denominations of those in attendance, what's the first thing everybody does? The men all remove their hats, and the women do not. Funny how that works, isn't it. This doesn't just happen by accident. It all goes back to the ancient Christian custom of veiling.

Yes, Christian women are supposed to veil during worship, and this is especially true for Catholic women who understand the incarnation of Christ and His real presence in the Blessed Sacrament. According to the Bible, this is not optional. All Christian women are expected to do it, but it is to be done voluntarily, without force or coercion. The custom was removed from the Canon Law of the Catholic Church, but it was never abrogated as a Biblical custom of the Faith. To veil properly, women must do so voluntarily, and they must do so with proper understanding of the custom and what it means. Hopefully this article has been helpful in this.

this was snipped from this blog [archived]

#catholic #veil #veiling #chapel veil #catholic mass #mass #worship #christian #religious customs

11 notes · View notes

dererumgestarum · 4 years

Text

THREE WOMEN/THREE PATRONS

In stark contrast to ancient Greece, the Romans had no use for the cult of the artist. The native sculptors, painters, mosaicists, and goldsmiths produced copies of Greek works or adapted from Greek sources, were freedmen or slaves whose names are not preserved and whose personal contribution to their work was minimal. When Roman patrons commissioned works from Greek artists (or looted masterpieces by classical artists), those names were often dutifully recorded. Architects were also freedmen, but commanded a little more respect, perhaps because the Romans knew that in this area their architects surpassed Greece in technical ability and iinnovation.

We also know that while the Roman elite recognized and valued high degrees of technical skill workmanship in the artists they patronized, the viewed those manual abilities as inappropriate for members of their own class and looked askance at their social peers who attempted to practice the visual arts. Capable emperors like Hadrian and Julian who took an interest in a manual activities including art, were thought to have degraded the purple in doing so.

Roman art has therefore been largely viewed as the product of an elite patron, who had no direct experience of making art, but whose taste, education, and class informed his/her choices of style, iconography and materials. The work art expresses the patron’s concerns, ambitions, and assumptions, without ever being “expressive” in the psycho-personal, modern sense. Unlike their Greek counterparts, the role of patron in ancient Rome was much more open to women. The following three examples demonstrate the real ways in which privileged Roman women used artistic patronage to assert themselves in the public sphere and to exercise limited, but meaningful, forms of political power.

I. EUMACHIA OF POMPEII

Nearly everything known today about Eumachia stems from epigraphic inscriptions found in Pompeii. The longer of two inscriptions on the building bearing her name adjacent to the Forum identifies her as the priestess of the cult of Venus Pompeiana. The priestess was the sole female member of the city council. Obtaining the position required great wealth and high social rank and the same inscription suggests Eumachia had both: she was the heiress of a successful brick and tile manufacturer and the wife of a patrician duumvir.

In addition to her role as priestess, Eumachia was the patron of Pompeii’s fuller’s guild. In the second decade of the 1st century, she paid for the construction of an enormous elegant building, which served as the meeting place and/or the workshop for the guild. A togate statue representing Eumachia placed in a niche inside the building was donated by the guild in her honor. The inscription also notes that the building was the building was dedicated to Concord and the pax augusta, which indicated that Eumachia wished to be known as a supporter of the imperial government.

Eumachia also commissioned the largest tomb in Pompeii. The elaborate monument exceeded the city’s limits placed on tomb size and surpassed the size of the mausolea of her male colleagues on the council.

II. AGRIPPINA THE ELDER

The daughter of Marcus Agrippa and Augustus’ daughter Julia was married to Germanicus, the most esteemed and capable general in Rome’s history and the adoptive son of Tiberius. After the untimely death of Germanicus, Agrippina actively promoted the sons of Germanicus as potential heirs to Tiberius. In pursuit of this goal, she commissioned one of the most important works of Roman art, the so-called Grand Camée de France.

The largest cameo to survive from antiquity was probably given to Tiberius, who is depicted at the center of the middle register. In the upper register, which signifies the divine realm, the deified Augustus is joined by Drusus and Germanicus. Seated next to Tiberius in the realm of the living is Livia (which dates the cameo to before AD 27). Alsc present are Germanicus and Agrippina with their sons Nero Julius Cæsar, Drusus, and Gaius (Caligula). After the death of their father, the older two boys were adopted by Tiberius. Both were dead by AD 31. Below, captive barbarians served to remind Tiberius of the glorious victories of Germanicus.

Following the example of Augustus, the Julio-Claudians were avid collectors of cameos and intaglios. Agrippina would have been familiar with the most accomplished gem carvers and the works they produced, including the Gemma Augusta. The size, refinement and complexity of the Grand Camée could not have failed to make an impression on Tiberius and Agrippina’s goal was eventually fulfilled: Caligula inherited the throne after the rest of his family, including Agrippina, was exterminated during the ascendancy of Sejanus. The priceless object proves that with access to unlimited resources Roman women could surpass their male counterparts in the commissioning of lavish artworks designed to serve as instruments of political power.

III. GALLA PLACIDIA

Galla Placidia was the daughter of Emperor Theodosius I, the sister of the Emperors Arcadius and Honorius, the mother of Emperor Valentinian III, and the aunt of Emperor Theodosius II. She was given the title Augusta in 421. Galla Placidia, Eudoxia, the wife of Theodosius II, and Pulcheria, the sister of Theodosius II effectively ran the eastern and western empires together during the minorities of Valentinian III and Theodosius II.

As the de facto ruler of the western empire, Galla Placidia engaged in many acts of imperial architecture patronage. She restored the churches of San Paolo fuori le mure in Rome and the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. In Ravenna, she founded the basilica of San Giovanni Evangelista and commissioned the building known today as the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, which was in fact an Oratory, attached to the narthex of the palace chapel of Santa Croce. After her death in 450, Galla Placidia was buried in the Theodosian family mausoleum in Old Saint Peter’s in Rome. The sarcophagi currently in the oratory, long identified as those of Galla Placidia, Constanius III and Valentinian III, were placed there at a later date.

The interior decoration of the oratory is the product of Galla’s refined tastes and unlimited resources. The mosaic depicting Christ as the Good Shepherd is a masterpiece of Late Antique art, seemlessly combining elements of Greek pastoral imagery, classical figuration, and imperial Roman iconography.

The mosaic representing a saint with a flaming grille was traditionally thought to depict St Lawrence. It has been argued,* however, that this panel represents the Spanish Saint Vincent of Saragossa. Evidence for this theory includes the facts that 1) Galla Placidia had Spanish connections through her first husband, Ataulf, the King of the Visigoths; 2) St. Vincent was martyred by drowning at sea, and Galla had founded San Giovanni Evangelista after she and her children had been delivered from a shipwreck; and 3) Prudentius's fifth century Passio Sancti Vincent Martyris recounts how Vincent was ordered to disclose his sacred books, so they could be burned. This explains the conspicuous representation of a late antique bookpress, containing the labeled codices of the Gospels, which has no satisfactory explanation in the story of St. Lawrence. This interpretation ties Galla Placidia personally to the mosaic program, proving that female patrons (of this class) had the freedom to commemorate their own experiences and personalize, not just pay for, official monuments.

(*) Mackie, Gillian, “New Light on the So-Called Saint Lawrence Panel at the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, Ravenna". Gesta 29:1 (1990), 54–60.

#roman art #patronage #eumachia #pompeii #agrippina maior #rome #galla placidia #ravemna #mosaic #cameo #mausoleum

92 notes · View notes

criticalrolo · 4 years

Note

Hey Hope you're doing okay It's a really random question (feel free to ignore it) but it just happened and I saw your ex-mormon tag My cousin who grew up in a very strict mormon family and got married at nineteen and had two kids very young Just came out as a lesbian and left her ex husband As someone who was in this religion, do you think she can stay in it and will be accepted? Like is there lgbt space there ? And even if there is what's the general view on the inside ?

Short answer: no

Longer answer: Mormons will talk about how they “love” lgbt people but you have to know that this is pretty much. just a straight up lie when you compare their beliefs and practices to how they want to be perceived as loving Everyone No Matter What.

In mormonism, it is required that gay people stay completely celibate for their whole lives until they die and God “sorts things out” in heaven, meaning that a gay man would be “given” a wife or a lesbian would be “given” to a husband. And by celibacy, they mean no having any sort of romantic inclinations ever. All gay thoughts must be repressed, no holding hands, no kissing, CERTAINLY no marriage. They are required to just stick out being alone in this life until God can make you straight in the afterlife. Hopefully I don’t have to explain to anyone that telling gay people “everything will be better and God will fix you once you die” is. not great.

The additional problem with this is, Mormons believe in an “Eternal Plan of Happiness” which necessitates marriage in the mormon temple for someone to be truly happy. Other kinds of marriage/living together without being married outside of mormonism (referenced specifically in a gay way lmao) aren’t “real” marriages.

Iconic quote from a church apostle Jeffrey Holland:

“Can you see the moral schizophrenia that comes from pretending you are one [in marriage], pretending you have made solemn promises before God, sharing the physical symbols and the physical intimacy of your counterfeit union but then fleeing, retreating, severing all such other aspects of what was meant to be a total obligation?” (Ensign, 1998, pg. 76-77)

From 2015-2019, it was mormon doctrine that if a gay person got married, they would be automatically excommunicated and their children would not be allowed to join the church until they were 18, no longer lived with their gay parents, and specifically disavowed their parents’ marriage. Making being gay a more heavily punished sin than murder/rape/etc.! If your parent commits a crime in mormonism, then you personally are not judged or restricted at all. If your parents are gay, then you have to take specific steps to distance yourself from them. From a church that thinks that the only way to be truly happy is to be Mormon and take all the necessary steps in mormonism such as baptism and being sealed in marriage you can see why this is such a huge deal to them to deny it to people! (This policy was reversed in 2019, which makes it kind wild to think that god apparently changed his mind about how severely to punish gay people within a span of four years. don’t worry now gay marriage is just equivalent to murder/rape instead of being worse)

The church has been staunchly opposed to every form of progress for lgbt rights for decades. In 2008 they advocated heavily for prop 8 in california, which would deny lgbt people the right to marry. They’ve also been vocally anti-gay marriage in their own sermons and addresses to the mormon population in a service called General Conference. As a lesbian who was mormon until I turned 18, I can tell you without any doubt that an anti-gay message was worked into nearly EVERY lesson/sermon/etc. It’s been their THING for the past 20 years or so, once everyone called them out on being racist and they had to try to stop that. (the insanely racist aspects of mormonism is ANOTHER post for another time)

Let’s go through some of my favorite anti “same sex attracted” quotes from the past couple of years!

“Our knowledge of God’s revealed plan of salvation requires us to oppose many of the current social and legal pressures to retreat from traditional marriage or to make changes that confuse or alter gender or homogenize the differences between men and women,” Oaks said in an address to the church's General Conference in October. Those pressures, he said, come from none other than Satan, who “seeks to confuse gender, to distort marriage, and to discourage childbearing, especially by parents who will raise children in truth.” -Dallan H. Oaks, General Conference Oct. 2018

“There are no homosexual members of the church.” David A. Bednar, Feb. 23, 2016

pretty much anything Boyd K. Packer ever said, fuck this guy for real

more boyd again I hate this man

“There are some men who entice young men to join them in these immoral acts. If you are ever approached to participate in anything like that, it is time to vigorously resist. While I was in a mission on one occasion, a missionary said he had something to confess. I was very worried because he just could not get himself to tell me what he had done. After patient encouragement he finally blurted out, 'I hit my companion.' 'Oh, is that all,' I said in great relief. 'But I floored him,' he said. After learning a little more, my response was 'Well, thanks. Somebody had to do it, and it wouldn't be well for a General Authority to solve the problem that way.' I am not recommending that course to you, but I am not omitting it. You must protect yourself.“ - Boyd K. Packer, 1976

There’s about a million more, but a good summary exists here on wikipedia about the church’s changing homophobic stances. Including all the electroshock therapy at BYU! good times.

Here are some good videos that explain why mormons trying to say they’re not homophobic are Complete Bullshit

youtube

On a more personal level, I can tell you that my experience with homophobia in the mormon church has been pretty devastatingly awful and I’m still experiencing the repercussions of being raised in an environment that actively told me what a horrible thing I was for Being Gay. Not all experiences are universal of course, but I can pretty much guarantee that any lgbt people still in the church are experiencing some major cognitive dissonance in order to justify their treatment there and keep believing that this is what God wants for them.

The homophobia usually isn’t outwardly violent and obvious -- it’s always couched in “language of love” while still conveying the meaning that gay people are inherently bad and will be better off once they die. Some people are still trying to change the church’s general opinion about this, especially the younger generation. The fact is, though, that the mormon church is inherently homophobic and that its doctrine cannot be separated from that. So, your cousin might know some good people who will do their best to accept her in spite of their mormon beliefs. Just know that those people will also probably be believing all the above things I’ve stated as absolute truth/doctrine at the same time.

#exmo #ex mormon #hahahahahahhaa i am. hmmmm this was a lot #@ any mormons who try to interact with this post: I Know More Than You ESPECIALLY on this topic #Anonymous

77 notes · View notes

whenihaveyouromione · 3 years

Text

When I Have You - Chapter 32

Read on Fanfiction.net or ao3 if you’d prefer!

-----

Chapter 32

After the fanfare of the engagement party, Ron had to admit that he was rather unimpressed by the wedding. The party had to have had at least three hundred people there, but the wedding was much smaller and more intimate. Only close family had been invited, and by the looks Audrey’s mother gave the Weasleys as they arrived, Ron was certain that she thought only Audrey’s close family should have come.

Ron had never been in a church before — he had no need to — but the glass windows and the old-looking walls were the things he liked the most.

Other than that, the only other decorations was a bouquet of flowers tied at the end of each row, and at the front were a few as well.

Hermione, who had attended a number of weddings in churches, also thought the lack of “wedding vibes” was off-putting compared to the party.

Our wedding will be much more interesting than this, he found himself thinking, though he kept the thought to himself. As much as he wished things could have been different, the shop still had the ring, and he’d only managed to pay off around fifty Galleons of the four hundred he owed. In fact, he’d mentioned his plans to no one (aside from George, who he’d been forced to tell) — not even to Harry — and planned to keep it that way until he could actually ask Hermione.

In part, because he felt a little embarrassed over the whole thing, but mostly because he just really wanted it to be a surprise. Ginny and Hermione weren’t gossips by nature, but Ron couldn’t help but think they talked about a lot when they were together. And Harry… well, he didn’t quite trust Harry to keep a secret. Not that he thought Harry would deliberately tell anyone, but it would potentially come up accidentally in a casual conversation with Ginny.

It was better if Ron kept it to himself. That way, he could only frustrate himself.

Maybe he was in a sour mood over the whole idea of a wedding, but Ron also found the ceremony rather boring. Was this how all Muggle weddings went? There was a lot of talking, a lot of readings, and a lot of other stuff he really didn’t understand. It was also long and Percy and Audrey really didn’t do much.

Even Hermione, who he remembered seeing cry at Bill and Fleur’s wedding, looked rather bored. Towards the end of the ceremony, she looked at him and smiled. Ron had been watching her for some time now, but when their eyes met, he almost felt as if they were agreeing, We are not getting married in a church.

Well, at least they were on the same page about the whole thing.

For the remainder of the ceremony, Ron’s mind trailed to what his own wedding would look like. He really only knew of them being held in gardens of wizarding properties, though would that even be manageable with a whole Muggle side to accommodate for? He’d never been to a wedding until now with a wizard side and a Muggle side, and it seemed that Percy had not been fussed about abandoning any form of tradition on his side.

Gone were the days where Percy was so pompous, so arrogant, about being a brilliant, highly respected wizard. The war had changed many of them, and it seemed that for Percy, being less of a prat was how he had changed.

Even so, Percy must have really loved Audrey to go through all of this for her.

Ron looked at Hermione again, who had returned her attention to the front. Well, he supposed he understood. He was at a point where he’d be willing to do just about anything to get that ring early.

After everything was done, they all stood up and clapped as Percy and Audrey left down the aisle of the church. It was odd seeing Percy dressed in anything other than Ministry robes, but he’d turned out all right, Ron supposed.

And Audrey looked rather nice too, wearing a traditional white wedding dress (according to Hermione), her hair done up, makeup on. He wouldn’t call her stunning, but she definitely wasn’t attractive either.

“Once again, the perfect couple,” Ginny said as they slowly exited the church. She and Harry had been sitting in the same row as Ron and Hermione, Ginny next to Hermione. “That was the most boring thing I’ve ever sat through, and I spent five years listening to Professor Binns ramble on about goblin wars. They’re going to live happy, boring lives together. It’ll be bliss… for them.”

Everyone laughed quietly as they stepped outside. It was an overcast day, but the rain had held off. Percy and Audrey were already posing for photos in the church garden.

“You know,” Ron said, leaning closely to Hermione as he watched his brother and his new wife, “Percy taught Audrey a lot about our ways, but I reckon she’s taught him more about hers. He looks so natural standing there, surrounded by all these Muggle things, as if he’s lived it his whole life. That, or he’s a damn good actor, and that I highly doubt.”

Hermione smiled, her eyes also focused on the happy couple. Ron placed an arm around her shoulders and drew her towards him.

He felt, more than saw, her open her mouth to say something. He waited, but when nothing came, he said, “Is everything alright?”

Hermione nodded, still smiling. “Yes,” she said. Her eyes continued to watch the photographer, thoughtful.

Ron wondered if she was wondering when that would be her. It was hard to tell with Hermione, but he did know she wanted to get married. He just didn’t know if she was one to ponder the idea or fantasise about it. Maybe she just wondered when he was going to ask her. Or maybe she was considering asking him instead, fed up with waiting.

“I want to be the one to ask you,” he said without thinking.

Hermione turned to face him, smiling, but said nothing. He could see in her eyes the question of when but he couldn’t tell her. If he did, all she would say was a ring didn’t matter, and then probably tell him off for buying something so expensive to begin with.

I could just do it, then give her the ring later.

But no, he’d committed now. They’d just have to wait.

“We have to do the photo thing, apparently.” Ginny came over to them, Harry slightly behind her.

“Now?” Ron asked, breaking himself from the moment he found himself in, where it was just him and Hermione and they were engaged.

“Yep,” Ginny said. “All the family and what not. Percy’s calling us over.”

Ron looked back over to where his brother was, and sure enough, there was Percy beckoning them all over with a rather irritated look on his face.

Ron looked back at Hermione, and like before, there was something unspoken between them. They grinned.

When we get married, things are going to be a lot more relaxed.

…

By the time the photos were done — an hour and a half later — Ron’s feet ached. He’d been standing for just as long, despite being required in only a handful of the photos — Hermione even less. In fact, Molly had gotten into a rather heated argument with Audrey’s mother over partners (except for Fleur) being in any of the photos at all.

“The others aren’t married, no children tying them together. Next year, we’ll look at these photos and they’ll be split up.”

“They are part of the family,” Molly argued. “Both Harry and Hermione are like children to me.”

Ron found it rather amusing that someone didn’t want Harry in a photo with them. Even now, Harry was still stopped on the street occasionally for someone to talk to him or get an autograph.

Harry didn’t seem to mind, though. He watched the two women argue with a look of amusement. He was probably thinking how refreshing it was to not be wanted for a photo.

Eventually, Molly won, and Hermione and Harry were both allowed one photo to mark their presence at the wedding.

Now, they sat in the reception hall, which was the same place the engagement party a few months back had been held. Apparently Audrey and Percy (or maybe Audrey’s mother) had a fascination with the place.

It was decorated as elaborately as the engagement had been, but not more so, which was again a disappointment to Ron. They were even seated in roughly the same spot as before, minus Bill and Charlie who Percy had asked to be groomsmen.

“That woman,” Molly huffed, glaring in the direction of Audrey’s mother, “is a piece of work. Not wanting Harry and Hermione in the photo…”

“Well, we technically aren’t family,” Hermione said in her matter-of-fact voice.

“You’re as good as,” Molly said fiercely, looking between Hermione and Harry. “Both of you. Anyway, it was Percy’s photos as much as Audrey’s…”

“They’re just photos, Mrs Weasley,” Harry said. “It really doesn’t matter.”

“It’s the principle,” Molly said, and she continued to cast scathing looks towards the woman she apparently now considered her enemy.

Ron shared a look with Ginny and Harry, who were both fighting back laughter. No one had really cared about the photos.

“Percy looks like he’s settled right into this whole Muggle life, though, hasn’t he?” Ron said, turning to look at his brother, who was not the Percy he knew. He was calm, hardly flustered, and looked as if he belonged amongst all these people with televisions and telephones and couldn’t Apparate an inch from where they stood.

“He has to, doesn’t he?” Ginny said. “I mean, Audrey can’t suddenly become a witch, so he has to become a Muggle.”

“Yes, well, as long as he doesn’t completely forget who he is,” Molly said, and her voice took on a hint of desperation.

“Who? Percy?” Ginny said. “Forget he’s the Head of Magical Transportation? Never. He just has a touch of Muggleness to his life now. It’s good for him. Will bring that ego down a notch when he can’t work an oven.”

“Like you know how to work an oven,” Ron said. “You know less than I do.”

“Yes, but I don’t need to,” Ginny said smugly.

“Neither do I,” Ron retorted.

“Oh, look, here comes Bill!” Fleur interjected, nodding towards where her husband was escaping a few curious people, staring and pointing at the scars running down his face. He looked nowhere near as comfortable as Percy, but offered everyone a polite smile as he passed them. Occasionally, he pointed towards Fleur and the rest of his family as an apparent attempt to reach them faster.

“Oh, ‘e is popular,” Fleur said, though Ron couldn’t work out if she was pleased or irritated by that fact. He did notice that it was a lot of other women who were stopping to talk to him, maybe attracted to a man with battle wounds.

From beside her, Victoire — who had acted as a ‘flower girl’ in the wedding (“It’s traditional in Muggle weddings,” Hermione had explained), sat in an elevated chair. She’d remained relatively quiet since arriving, but upon seeing her father approaching, she let out a delighted squeal and cried, “Papa!”

“Shh,” Fleur said as a few heads turned.

But Victoire slammed her hands onto the table, bouncing up and down in her seat as Bill drew closer and closer. She wore a large smile.

“Hey!” Bill said brightly, grinning at them all. “How is it over here?”

“I’m a little hungry,” Ginny said, “and Mum has declared Audrey’s mother her mortal enemy. But other than that, we’re good.”

Bill chuckled. “I don’t know how Perce will do it. I probably couldn’t.”

“Yes, well, you’re lucky you ‘ave me,” Fleur said, shooting some more gawkers a look that could rival Molly’s.

Bill looked at her, slightly alarmed, but he was distracted by another squeal from Victoire. She stuck up chubby arms for him to pick her up. Bill obliged.

“Papa,” Victoire giggled, snuggling into him.

Ron couldn’t help but smile. Victoire was a pretty good kid… for a baby, he supposed. She had inherited her mother’s hair and facial structure, and good looks. She was only a Weasley by name.

He didn’t see his niece often, but when he did, she was demanding and bossy and wanted all the attention on herself. Also like her mother.

But, she was pretty cute, and she had taken a liking to Ron for some reason. Whenever she saw him, she stuck her hands out for him to pick her up.

At first, it had made him nervous, but he hadn’t dropped her yet, so that was something. And he had to admit — he rather liked holding her.

Hermione said they were adorable together.

That being said, Ron was more than happy to pass her off to Bill or Fleur after a few minutes.

"I hope you're behaving," Bill said with a smile.

"She is a delight, as usual," Molly said. She beamed. If anyone was prouder than Victoire's parents, it was her grandmother. Apparently there was something special about a first grandchild — something that Ron doubted any future children could live up to (except maybe for the last, whenever and whoever that would be).

Victoire continued to smile up at Bill, giggling every so often.

“Are you stuck at zat table all night?” Fleur asked.

“To eat the food, yes,” Bill said. “I’m free to roam otherwise.”

“Muggle weddings are weird,” Fleur complained. “Separating husband and wife, husband and daughter…” She frowned towards Percy and Audrey for a moment, and then sighed, returning her gaze to Bill. “At least sit for ze moment.” She patted the seat beside her that Arthur had just vacated in an attempt to engage Audrey in a conversation of some kind.

Bill collapsed with a sigh.

“It can’t be that bad, can it?” Ginny asked. “Over there?”

Bill looked at her. “Percy and Audrey are fine. It’s the other guests.” He lowered his voice. “Her mother…”

Ron snorted. Molly looked delighted.

“Don’t be rude,” Hermione said, though she, too, was smiling. Her own parents being Muggles had done little to impress Audrey’s mother.

The conversation drifted to other things after that — about who was going to win the Quidditch season this year, would Ginny play for the Harpies, and what was happening in Auror training or Hermione’s work.

Eventually, the first course arrived, and Bill placed Victoire back in the chair and left a disgruntled Fleur to tend to their daughter.

After the food had been eaten — Victoire flinging the last of hers behind her, some landing on some old man dressed in a suit — Ron looked to Hermione.

“Wanna come and get a drink with me? I need you to help me choose something decent. I don’t understand these Muggle drinks.”

Hermione nodded, smiled, and stood up.

Once they were a distance away from the table, heading towards the bar, Hermione said, “I don’t know what the options are, but I suppose a —”

“I really just wanted to get you alone for a moment,” Ron said, and he stopped walking, turning Hermione to face him. Some people walked by carrying drinks of their own, but they blended in well enough that no one paid them any mind.

He kissed her, to which she responded, smiling against his lips.

“But do you want that drink or not?” Hermione asked.

“I do, but you taste much better.” He kissed her again, but after a moment Hermione pushed him away and grabbed his hand.

“Come on,” she said, dragging him towards the bar. “I’ll get us something I think we’ll both like.”

While Hermione ordered the drinks (something about vodka) Ron looked back over to the table they’d just come from. Victoire was bouncing up and down in her chair, a loud shriek escaping her in that moment, which travelled all the way over to them.

Ron laughed. He really did like Victoire, and he liked being around a little kid. At first, he’d taken on the uncle duty hesitantly, then confidently, and even more recently (maybe around the time he decided that he really was going to marry Hermione) little moments passed him where he thought maybe he could do it himself.

Of course, they were usually fleeting moments that were wiped from his mind the moment Victoire threw a fit over nothing, but as he watched Fleur attempt to placate her daughter, the once fleeting thought lingered a little bit longer, only disrupted by Hermione passing a glass into his hand.

“Be warned, it’s strong, but not Firewhisky strong,” she said, then followed his gaze over to Victoire. “She’s happy tonight, isn’t she?”

“I think she’s great!” Ron said, beaming.

“You mean the same child you just last week called the devil’s spawn?” Hermione said, amusement on her face.

“She bit me!” Ron said. “And it hurt. Of course I’d say that then.” He took a sip from the drink — that to his eyes looked like water — and almost choked on it.

“I told you,” Hermione said.

“That’s revolting!” he exclaimed.

Hermione shrugged.

Ron looked back over at Victoire again, opened his mouth, then closed it. This topic seemed a little too advanced for them. He took another sip of his drink and winced. How could Muggles stand this stuff?

He looked at Hermione to tell her she’d chosen poorly, only to find her watching him in a way that gave him the feeling she knew exactly what he had just stopped himself from saying. Was it possible to hide anything from her?

The good thing was, she was smiling, and didn’t look at all unnerved.

“You can say it, you know,” she said warmly. “We’re adults, we’re in a committed relationship with long term goals. You can talk about it.”

Ron once again opened his mouth, then shut it again. He frowned. “Er… alright.” Another sip from the drink, just because it was something to do. “That… I mean, having kids one day… that’s something you see?”

“Of course,” Hermione said. “Didn’t we mention it a while back that it was in our plans?”

“Yeah, but it was more in passing. As a maybe. A possibility, not something we definitely agreed upon.”

Hermione shook her head. “I haven’t changed my mind.”

“Neither,” Ron said quickly. “I like the thought of it.” He smiled affectionately at her.

“Me too.”

“In the future, of course!” Ron added hurriedly. “I don’t mean now, or anything, in case you were wondering. I just mean… if I’m going to have kids — which I’d like to, I think — I want it to be with you… in the future.”

“How far in the future?” Hermione asked, and Ron was surprised by her curiosity. It almost sounded as if she wanted him to say something like “maybe soon.” She had a glow about her. He studied her a moment before answering.

“I dunno,” he said after a moment. “It’s not something I think about every day, or every moment. But I think I could do it. I mean, I think we could do it.”

“I think we can, too,” Hermione said, smiling and sipping from her drink, which she seemed to enjoy more than Ron did.

He laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Hermione questioned.

“Oh… nothing, really. It’s just, here we are, talking about big things. I seem to have a really bad habit of making really big decisions at events like these.”.

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked.

“I mean, that every time there’s a lot of people around, and there’s a lot of people in love, it reminds me of how in love with you I am, and I start planning our future more and more.”

“We’ve only been to one wedding before this one,” Hermione said. “So unless you made some big decision at Bill and Fleur’s wedding about us, what other opportunities have you had?”

“The engagement party,” Ron said without thinking.

“What big decisions were you making there?” Hermione prompted.

Ron hesitated. He shouldn’t have said anything. He also had a habit of speaking without thinking, which always got him into a lot of trouble.

“Just… things,” he said after a moment. “Things I want to do with you. It… it didn’t really work out as I’d hoped, though.”

Hermione was silent for a moment, and then, her tone taking on an air of cheerfulness, said, “You know, Ron, you really are quite the romantic. If you’d shown this side of yourself while at Hogwarts, we might have had many more years together.”

Ron turned back to her, smiling.

“I love you,” she said. “And I look forward to the moment we decide it’s the right time to make big decisions. Because I want to make them all with you.”

Ron’s heart skipped a beat. Maybe two. Maybe even three. All he knew was her words awoke something inside of him. What was she trying to say?

“You’re ready for those big decisions now, aren’t you?” he said.

She smiled. “Some of them, yes.”

He grinned. “Then so am I.”

5 notes · View notes

andybondurant · 3 years

Text

New Post has been published on Andy Bondurant

New Post has been published on https://andybondurant.com/2021/09/07/you-are-invited-in/

You are invited in!

I met my wife when I was 16 years old in the same youth group I went to camp with in Colorado. Before I truly started to follow Jesus, I had stepped out of that world for a couple of years, but I started back after Jesus picked me out.

A group of kids invited me into their community, and they would trek out to my wife’s parent’s house week after week. Her family lived on 80 acres about 30 miles south of the KC metro area. It was mostly young men who made up this group, and we all pretended to be there for the clean, country living.

But my wife is pretty good looking, so I’ll let you do the math. Somehow, I outlasted those guys, she chose me, and thirty years later, we’re married with 4 awesome kids.

The point of sharing this story for you isn’t to brag about winning my wife (but since we’re on the subject…), but to bring back the topic I raised in my last post.

Jesus picked you.

It is a pattern Jesus repeats throughout the gospels. He picked men and women out. Then Jesus invited them into community – just like that group of kids invited into the community where I met my wife. Finally, Jesus called those people up to greater things.

In the Gospel of Luke (5:1-11), Jesus picked Peter out from a community of fisherman. Jesus initially asked to borrow Peter’s boat to teach a large crowd gathered around the lakeshore. When Jesus is done teaching, he instructs Peter to push the boat out a little further and drop his nets for a catch.

Peter, a life-long fisherman, is reluctant. This wasn’t the ideal time of day to fish, but he obeys Jesus’ persistence. To Peter’s surprise (and shame), Jesus performs the miracle of bringing in a two-boat-full haul of fish.

Jesus invites us in.

Jesus picked Peter out from among the crowd, but he didn’t end there. He went on to invite him into a community. Jesus starts by using the guys already with Peter. In the midst or trying to haul in the massive catch, Luke records there was “a shout for help [that] brought their partners in the other boat…” (Luke 5:7).

Following Jesus’ famous words to Peter (”From now on you’ll be fishing for people!” -Luke 5:10), he doesn’t follow Jesus alone. Peter leaves with his friends and business partners, James and John. Luke tells us,

“His partners…were also amazed…And as soon as they landed, they left everything and followed Jesus.” -Luke 5:10-11

Jesus hasn’t just picked you out. He is inviting you into community. Again, this is the pattern of Jesus. He picks us out, but then Jesus invites us into relationship. Of course, the relationship is with himself and the Father and the Spirit, but it also is the community of Jesus’ followers locally and around the world.

So if Jesus has invited us into this community, it’s important to know both what community is and why community matters.

What is community?

Community is the Church. That is Church with a capital ‘C’ – the global church. The church is global, but community takes place in the local church. It is not uncommon to hear someone say something like, “I love Jesus, but I’m not really into church.” They may go onto say, “The church is just too hypocritical.”

I won’t try to argue those statements, but I will share two points why those aren’t reason enough to abandon the local church.

1. We are told to meet.

“Let us not stay away from church meetings. Some people are doing this all the time. Comfort each other as you see the day of His return coming near.” -Hebrews 10:25

Scholars aren’t sure who wrote the book of Hebrews, but whoever wrote it couldn’t have made this point any more clear. Keep meeting. Church matters.

There are lots of reasons to meet with other believers on a regular basis, but the writer of Hebrews lists one here – comfort. We need community when times are tough. This pandemic season has been really hard, but those who have a strong community (both in-person and virtual) are the ones both making it through and thriving in the midst of difficult times.

2. The church equips us and builds us up.

“Their responsibility is to equip God’s people to do his work and build up the church, the body of Christ.” -Ephesians‬ ‭4:12‬ ‭NLT‬‬

The Apostle Paul wrote the book of Ephesians, and in chapter four Paul talks a lot about the church. He calls for unity because we need one another. We need one another because all of us have different gifts and talents from God.

He begins to wrap this passage up with the above verse. The church (specifically the different people with their unique gifts who make up the church) equip us and build us up. Paul goes on to say when we are equipped and built up, we are mature and strong in our faith.

Church is more than a Sunday morning meeting. In the modern American church, it is hard to find community in a weekly gathering of several hundred or thousand people. In fact, it’s nearly impossible to find community in that setting. More than likely, if you attend a large church, you will find true community in separate gatherings of smaller groups (10-15) of people. If you want to really grow as a follower of Jesus, you will find spiritual life in a small community group.

Why does community matter?

As a believer in Jesus, you are invited into this type of community. If I haven’t already convinced you of it’s importance, let me give you three more reasons why community matters.

1. Community comes to your aid.

In the Hebrews passage, we saw that one purpose of the church is to comfort one another. In the story of Jesus and Peter, we see Peter’s community coming to his aid when the catch of fish overwhelmed him and his boat.

I experienced this first hand when Kia required major surgery earlier this year. My church community came around us to provide meals, help with kids, and be with her when I couldn’t. Our community came to our aid.

Who will come to your aid

2. Community walks with you.

When Peter walked away from his life as a fisherman, he didn’t need physical help, he needed the comfort of someone walking with him. We saw how his friends James and John also left their work as fisherman to walk with Peter.

During this last two years of stress, I’ve needed people to simply walk alongside me and listen to my frustrations. They’ve needed me to do the same with them. I needed people to be with me; nothing more could be done.

Who is walking with you?

3. Community knows you.

I recently listened to a podcast with rapper, poet, speaker, Jackie Hill Perry, and her husband (also a poet), Preston. In the podcast, they spoke about handling fame.

Fame, of course, is very subjective. What I experience as fame may be different than what you would experience. Both of our experiences will never match what Kanye knows as fame. Within this context, fame simply means being known for a gift or talent outside of who I really am as a person.

More than likely, you are famous at your work. In other words, you are known for the gift you have to do your job, but it is completely separate from who you truly are. In this podcast, Jackie Hill Perry said this,

“My gifting always outshines my character.”

It was so powerful that I stopped the podcast, paused the walk I was on, and I made a note of it in my phone. Seen only through the eyes of my abilities, you will believe I am a better person than I really am. My gifting always outshines my character.

Because of this, I need a community of people around me who know me…truly know me. I need them to bring me back to reality. I need them to point out my short comings, and encourage me to be better.

Who truly knows you?

Picked out. Invited in. Called up.

Jesus picked you out. Jesus also invited you into this type of community. I admit, it’s not always easy. Sometimes the humanity of Christians interferes with their Christ-likeness. I implore you not to keep you from finding community.

Jesus has invited you in, so you can be built up. Even more important, Jesus has invited you in, so you can be called up to greater things.

This is what Jesus does.

He picks us out. He invites us in. He calls us up.

#Andy Bondurant #called up #church #community #Ephesians #Hebrews #invited in #Jesus #Kia Bondurant #Luke #Peter #picked out

1 note · View note

mybeautifulchristianjourney · 4 years

Text

To The King Eternal

a prayer by Charles Spurgeon

Our God and Father, draw us to Thyself by Thy Spirit and may the few minutes that we spend in prayer be full of the true spirit of supplication. Grant that none of us with closed eyes may yet be looking abroad over the fields of vanity, but may our eyes be really shut to everything else now but that which is spiritual and divine. May we have communion with God in the secret of our hearts and find Him to be to us as a little sanctuary.

O Lord, we do not find it easy to get rid of distracting thoughts, but we pray Thee help us to draw the sword against them and drive them away, and as when the birds came down upon his sacrifice Abraham drove them away, so may we chase away all cares, all thoughts of pleasure, everything else, whether it be pleasing or painful, that would keep us away from real fellowship with the Father and with His Son Jesus Christ.

We would begin with adoration. We worship from our hearts the Three in One, the infinitely glorious Jehovah, the only living and true God. We adore the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob. We are not yet ascended to the place where pure spirits behold the face of God, but we shall soon be there, perhaps much sooner than we think, and we would be there in spirit now, casting our crowns upon the glassy sea before the throne of the Infinite Majesty and ascribing glory and honour, and power and praise, and dominion and might to Him that sitteth upon the throne and unto the Lamb forever and ever.

All the Church doth worship Thee, O God, every heart renewed by grace takes a delight in adoring Thee, and we, among the rest, though least and meanest of them all, yet would bow as heartily as any worshipping, loving, praising, in our soul, being silent unto God because our joy in Him is altogether inexpressible.

Lord, help us to worship Thee in life as well as lip. May our whole being be taken up with Thee. As when the fire fell down on Elijah’s sacrifice of old and licked up even the water that was in the trenches, so may the consuming fire of the divine Spirit use up all our nature, and even that which might seem to hinder, even out of that may God get glory by the removal of it. Thus would we adore.

But, oh! dear Savior, we come to Thee and we remember what our state is, and the condition we are in encourages us to come to Thee now as beggars, as dependents upon Thy heavenly charity. Thou art a Savior and as such Thou art on the outlook for those that need saving, and here we are, here we come. We are the men and women Thou art looking for, needing a Savior.

Great Physician, we bring Thee our wounds and bruises and putrifying sores, and the more diseased we are and the more conscious we are today of the depravity of our nature, of the deep-seated corruption of our hearts, the more we feel that we are the sort of beings that Thou art seeking for, for the whole have no need of a physician, but they that are sick.

Glorious Benefactor, we can meet Thee on good terms, for we are full of poverty, we are just as empty as we can be. We could not be more abjectly dependent than we are. Since Thou wouldest display Thy mercy, here is our sin. Since Thou wouldest show Thy strength, here is our weakness. Since Thou wouldest manifest Thy lovingkindness, here are our needs. Since Thou wouldest glorify Thy grace, here are we, such persons as can never have a shadow of a hope except through Thy grace, for we are undeserving, ill-deserving, hell-deserving, and if Thou do not magnify Thy grace in us, we must perish forever.

And somehow we feel it sweet to come to Thee in this way. If we had to tell Thee that we had some good thing in us which Thou didst require of us, we should be questioning whether we were not flattering ourselves and presumptuously thinking that we were better than we are. Lord Jesus, we come just as we are. This is how we came at first, and this is how we come still, with all our failures, with all our transgressions, with all and everything that is what it ought not to be, we come to Thee. We do bless Thee that Thou dost receive us and our wounds, and by Thy stripes we are healed; Thou dost receive us and our sins, and by Thy sin-bearing we are set clear and free from sin. Thou dost receive us and our death, even our death, for Thou art He that liveth and was dead, and art alive forevermore.

We just come and lie at Thy feet, obedient to that call of Thine, “Come unto Me all ye that labour and I will give you rest.” Let us feel sweet rest, since we do come at Thy call. May some come that have never come till this day, and may others who have been coming these many years, consciously come again, coming unto Thee as unto a living stone, chosen of God and precious, to build our everlasting hopes upon.

But, Lord, now that we are come so near Thee and on right terms with Thee, we venture to ask Thee this, that we that love Thee may love Thee very much more. Oh! since Thou hast been precious, Thy very name has music in it to our ears, and there are times when Thy love is so inexpressibly strong upon us that we are carried away with it. We have felt that we would gladly die to increase Thine honor. We have been willing to lose our name and our repute if so be Thou mightest be glorified, and truly we often feel that if the crushing of us would lift Thee one inch the higher, we would gladly suffer it.

For oh! Thou blessed King, we would set the crown on Thy head, even if the sword should smite our arm off at the shoulder blade. Thou must be King whatever becomes of us. Thou must be glorified whatever becomes of us.

But yet we have to mourn that we cannot get always to feel as we should this rapture and ardour of love. Oh! at times Thou dost manifest Thyself to us so charmingly that heaven itself could scarce be happier than the world becomes when Thou art with us in it. But when Thou art gone and we are in the dark, oh! give us the love that loves in the dark, that loves when there is no comfortable sense of Thy presence. Let us not be dependent upon feeling, but may we ever love Thee, so that if Thou didst turn Thy back on us by the year together, we would think none the less of Thee, for Thou art unspeakably to be beloved whatsoever Thou doest, and if Thou dost give us rough words, yet still we would cling to Thee, and if the rod be used till we tingle again, yet still will we love Thee, for Thou art infinitely to be beloved of all men and angels, and Thy Father loved Thee. Make our hearts to love Thee evermore the same. With all the capacity for love that there is in us, and with all the more that Thou canst give us, may we love our Lord in spirit and in truth.

Help us, Lord, to conquer sin out of love to Thee. Help some dear strugglers that have been mastered by sin sometimes, and they are struggling against it. Give them the victory, Lord, and when the battle gets very sharp and they are tempted to give way a little, help them to be very firm and very strong, never giving up hope in the Lord Jesus, and resolving that if they perish they will perish at His feet and nowhere else but there.

Lord, raise up in our churches many men and women that are all on fire with love to Christ and His divine Gospel. Oh! give us back again men like Antipas, Thy faithful martyr, men like Paul, Thy earnest servant who proclaimed Thy truth so boldly. Give us Johns, men to whom the Spirit may speak, who shall bid us hear what the Spirit saith unto the churches. Lord, revive us! Lord, revive us! Revive Thy work in the midst of the years in all the churches. Return unto the Church of God in this country, return unto her. Thine adversaries think to have it all their own way, but they will not, for the Lord liveth, and blessed be our Rock.

Because of truth and righteousness, we beseech Thee lay bare Thine arm in these last days. O Shepherd of Israel, deal a heavy blow at the wolves and keep Thy sheep in their own true pastures, free from the poisonous pastures of error. O God, we would stir Thee up. We know Thou sleepest not, and yet sometimes it seems as if Thou didst sleep awhile and leave things to go on in their own way.

We beseech Thee, awake. Plead Thine own cause. We know Thine answer, “Awake! Awake! Put on thy strength, O Zion.” This we would do, Lord, but we cannot do it unless Thou dost put forth Thy strength to turn our weakness into might.

Great God, save this nation! O God of heaven and earth, stay the floods of infidelity and of filthiness that roll over this land. Would God we might see better days! Men seem entirely indifferent now. They will not come to hear the Word as once they did. God of our fathers, let Thy Spirit work again among the masses. Turn the hearts of the people to the hearing of the Word and convert them when they hear it. May it be preached with the Holy Ghost sent down from heaven.

Our hearts are weary for Thee, thou King, Thou King forgotten in thine own land, Thou King despised among Thine own people, when wilt Thou yet be glorious before the eyes of all mankind? Come, we beseech Thee, come quickly, or if Thou comest not personally, send forth the Holy Spirit with a greater power than ever that our hearts may leap within us as they see miracles of mercy repeated in our midst.

Father, glorify Thy Son. Somehow our prayer always comes to this before we have done. “Father, glorify Thy Son that Thy Son also may glorify Thee,” and let the days come when He shall see of the travail of His soul and shall be satisfied. Bless all work done for Thee, whether it be in the barn or in the cathedral, silently and quietly at the street door, or in the Sunday school or in the classes, O Lord, bless Thy work. Hear also prayers that have been put up by wives for their husbands, children for their parents, parents for their children. Let the holy service of prayer never cease and let the intercession be accepted of God, for Jesus Christ’s sake. Amen.

#Charles H. Spurgeon #To The King Eternal #prayer

10 notes · View notes

enchanted-prose · 4 years

Text

#14 She Holds the Key in Her Hand

my beta loved this chapter :,)

Word count: 5,218

Characters: Tobias, Imogen, Princess Amarinda, Mott, Renlyn (Original character), Feall (Original character), Jolly (Original character), Roden, Jaron

Notes: edited. im excited to see reactions.

Enjoy!

The atrium was large enough for a group of people, but small enough not to feel empty. Shelves lined the round walls, and the ceiling was made entirely out of glass. Plants, books, and small collected trinkets rested in odd places. Couches and padded chairs of all designs had been placed strategically around the massive fireplace. A massive rug kept the chairs a safe distance from the fire, which illuminated a series of paintings.

It was a treasure among the castle’s numerous libraries.

Renlyn had been responsible for most of the furnishings. She'd managed to turn a stern room into one of the most favorite places in the castle for Jaron’s inner circle.

"That's nice," Tobias said, gesturing to the book covers Amarinda, Imogen, and Renlyn were embroidering.

Imogen’s creampuff of a kitten opened a single green eye, stared at Tobias, and settled back against Imogen’s arm.

"Thank you, I suppose, but my embroidery has always been severely lacking," Amarinda teased, holding up her mediocre book cover. "I refuse to give up."

"I think you've improved," muttered Renlyn.

Amarinda feigned offense as everyone in the room began nodding.

Tobias kept his hands clasped behind his back as he stared out of the tower window. He kept hearing pieces of Amarinda’s conversation, but couldn’t contribute.

It was an unspoken pact that each time there was a regents’ meeting, Amarinda and Imogen would gather all information possible, and discuss it with each other while they tended to their needlework. Renlyn had been invited, but no husbands were allowed to participate.

Eventually, Tobias earned the right to be in the same room during a needlepoint session, and did his best not to encroach on the discussions.

"Very true, I still remember some of your earliest designs," Imogen yawned.

"Play fair, I was a child at one point."

"As were we all,” Imogen mused. “Except Renlyn, I suppose"

“I emerged from the womb fully grown, it’s true.”

Amarinda snorted, and pulled her needle free from its thread. She frowned. “I do wish I’d stop doing that.”

“Perhaps you should consider a longer tail?” Renlyn gestured to the long thread dangling from her own needle.

“Be careful with a longer tail, it sometimes causes the string to knot,” added Imogen.

Tobias, who didn’t know much about the art of embroidery, turned to one of the shelves. His practice fippler stared at him from its dusty pedestal.

Several weeks ago, Jolly had made his home in one of the many rooms in the castle, and offered to teach Tobias the fippler.

However, Tobias was a natural disaster when it came to certain instruments, and he made no point in practicing after Jolly left to perform for a Lord’s daughter’s wedding in the northwest corner of Carthya. The fippler knew Tobias’s sin.

He picked it up, and wriggled some of the pieces. Tobias blew a series of extremely off key notes through the mouthpiece. Imogen’s cat hissed and ran beneath her skirts.

The cringe he wore rivaled the crown of garbage that adorned some of the Vault entrances.

In practicing the fippler, Tobias failed to notice how close Amarinda, Renlyn, and Imogen had gotten. The veil and circlet Renlyn wore over her hair hid both Renlyn’s and Imogen’s faces. Amarinda drew her head back from the secret conversation, a smile on her face.

Don’t eavesdrop, don’t eavesdrop, don’t eavesdrop.

Ah! He could quietly play the fippler and look at all of the trinkets on the shelves. Many of them weren’t Carthyan, and even more of them had been made by Jaron, Imogen, and Fink.

The most beautiful image was a bird made from the outline of a hand, the thumb outline served as a head, and the other four outlined fingers served as colorful feathers. Jaron’s signature took up the entire bottom portion of the image.

Tobias flinched as a loud, pitchy squeal escaped from the fippler.

All members of the embroidery trio looked at him. His ears burned.

Jolly was going to kill him for abusing the instrument.

Unable to continue mistreating the fippler, for both his sanity, the women’s sanity, and the fippler’s sanity, Tobias set the instrument down on another shelf. He’d have to pick up practicing later.

Tobias took a step onto the rug and turned around himself. Shelves of books, bottled flowers, angry wooden knights Roden and Jaron used to throw at each other; the atrium was filled with hints of his friends.

Without the fippler, Tobias wasn’t distracted from Amarinda’s conversation.

He couldn’t stop himself from catching strings of phrases.

Certain words stuck out; words like “Blackberry Night”, and “Mandatory”.

Don’t intrude, Tobias, don’t intrude. They invited him to be in the same room because he didn’t feel the need to stick his nose into their business.

“- it wouldn’t be difficult,” Renlyn chuckled. “The decorations can be reused.”

Amarinda hummed, “But do they match our preferred color palette?”

“Do the colors even need to match the color palette?” Imogen asked.

Don’t intrude, don’t intrude.

Both Renlyn and Amarinda gasped, and then shushed each other.

All three of them were plotting. Tobias peered over his shoulder, only to make eye contact with Amarinda. He flung his gaze back to the window and prayed his flushed face would soon return to normal.

“Tobias?” Amarinda wore a charming smile. “Do you want to join our circle?”

“I thought I’d never get an invit-! Yes, I would love to join your circle, I appreciate your offer,” he said, bowing his head ever so slightly.

“I brought up Jaron’s stance on Blackberry Night,” Imogen explained. She and Renlyn inched away from Amarinda. “We decided we’ll take care of the party ourselves.”

“Thank you,” Tobias said as he sat down by Amarinda, grateful for the space Renlyn and Imogen had made for him. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

He recognized the proud look on Renlyn’s face. It was the look of a woman who knew how much power she had. The corner of her mouth turned up, the closest to a smile Tobias had ever seen from her. “Not exactly. I’ll be providing decorations for the castle. We’ve decided that we’ll require a series of colors for everyone to wear; the decision to host Blackberry Night has been a little short notice, and a lot of nobles wouldn’t be able to find something new to wear in time.”

“Ah, I see. I suppose I can help get the word out.”

Amarinda nodded, “I’ve agreed to help set up the decorations.”

“Our goal is to set up as much as we can before Jaron notices,” Imogen explained. “He puts a lot on his shoulders, and it’s only fair that we help him.”

“And I’m the one paying for Blackberry Night, not the crown, so our lovely king and queen don’t need to worry about the cost,” Renlyn sat a little straighter.

Sometimes Tobias forgot just how much wealth the Karises had. Renlyn didn’t enjoy discussing her assets outside of a business transaction.

“How long will it take you to get the decorations here?” Amarinda asked, setting her embroider on her lap.

Renlyn smirked, “Not very long at all, I have a residence not far from here, and I can always rent.”

Tobias tilted his head, “What exactly do you want to see done?”

“Trellises, blackberries hanging from the ceiling. I’d very much like Blackberry Night to look like a dream.”

“A dream? Amarinda is an expert when it comes to creating an atmosphere, you won’t be disappointed, Lady Ren.”

“Oh, I know, and if I am, I’ll redo everything by myself.”

She continued to explain that she wanted the magic of the party to stretch out as far as it could. Those who weren’t nobility would have their own rustic celebrations, and Renlyn wanted to be able to experience that same concept without having to take a tumble through leech filled mud. An army of farmers were awaiting her call to bring harvested berries and branches to the castle.

The entire castle was to be decorated, and it needed to be at least halfway done before Jaron returned from checking in on Feall.

Something was nagging at the back of Tobias’s mind.

Something important.

“Renlyn, how can you even afford this?” He asked, racking his brain for everything he knew about the Karises.

It wasn’t much.

She waved her hand, “I know how to make a profit.”

A profit. Tobias wrinkled his nose, there had to be more to it than that.

He wondered if the current unrest following the name Mireldis Thay had anything to do with Lady Renlyn Karise.

No amount of courage could motivate Tobias to blurt that out to the world.

“So it’s settled, we’re setting up as much as we can over the next two hours?” Imogen asked, a devilish glint sparkling in her tea-colored eyes.

“Oh, absolutely,” Renlyn winked. “Call in the page outside, I’ll send word to my staff. They’ll be excited to get involved.”

“I do have to recommend that we bring in fake pools. Queen Danika did that for her daughter’s birthday, and they were quite popular,” said Amarinda as she reached for Tobias’s hand.

“That-, that really would add a little extra something to Blackberry Night.”

Tobias grinned as he pictured Renlyn’s splendid plan for Blackberry Night. He’d always avoided participating in Blackberry Night while he was younger; many people used Blackberry Night to drink barrels and barrels of bees wine and lead wild hunts for fairies. It was a fool’s holiday, but a welcome one.

A tradition among young couples was to take a bouquet of flowers, wrap them together, and write a secret wish to tie to the wrapping. You’d take the bouquet and your secret wish with you to one of the many dances, find your partner, and hold onto the bouquet as you danced to light jigs and reels. The longer you held onto your bouquet, the more likely your wish would come true.

When the church bells rung at midnight, you and your partner would rush to the Roving River, and throw your bouquet into the water.

It was your choice whether or not you’d tell your wish to your partner.

Although in certain cases, certain wishes could be fulfilled during the remainder of Blackberry Night. Typically, these wishes led to rushed weddings and a series of babies born in the spring.

“Excited for Blackberry Night, love?” Amarinda asked, reaching over to brush her fingers over Tobias’s curls.

“We’ll see, I might have to tend to the drunken nobles who’ll try to punch their way through stained glass,” Tobias snickered. He looked back at Amarinda, studying her every feature. “Although. . . I do know of a few favors I can call in if needed.”

“I’d like that; I’d hate to be stuck with Roden as a dance partner again.”

“Why? Does he step on your toes?”

She laughed, “He’s a skilled dancer, surprisingly enough, but he’s not my husband.”

Tobias reached for Amarinda’s hand, and kissed her fingers, “I’ll pull strings, you’ll have a dance partner for Blackberry Night.”

“Then I’ll find a bouquet of flowers to throw.”

“Does that mean you’re writing the wish this year?”

“Absolutely,” Amarinda smiled. “And I won’t tell you what it is.”

“Are you sure?” Tobias stuck his bottom lip out as far as he could.

“You won’t get a single word out of me.”

The bounce of her red-brown curls captured all of Tobias’s attention as she threw back her head to laugh. Amarinda was a creature of grace and poise, and Tobias couldn’t stand the thought of his life without her.

Somebody was calling his name- probably Renlyn.

He didn’t care.

He could spend an eternity watching every flick of Amarinda’s hands.

The conversation continued without him.

“Right, as I was saying,” Renlyn wrinkled her nose. “My workers will be here within the hour. Amarinda, you’re welcome to include Tobias in decorating the main hall. Imogen, I take it you can handle the cooks?”

Imogen nodded, “They’ll be more than happy to spite Jaron in a way that won’t get them into serious trouble.”

“I suppose that’s good.”

“To clarify, we’ve decided on creams, pinks, and golds for the dress code?” Amarinda asked, excitement sparkling through her hands.

Tobias could sense the energy she carried.

He waited for Renlyn’s confirmation, and shared a smile with Amarinda. A ball was much needed at Drylliad. They’d be able to dance around the floor and forget the Faola, Mireldis Thay, and Oberson’s meddling hands for a few hours.

They’d be able to throw a bouquet and a secret wish into the Roving River and hope it comes true.

There were a handful of wishes always lingering in the back of Tobias’s mind, but he knew eventually their time would come.

It was a matter of being patient.

“Do you, ah,” Amarinda’s voice dropped. “Want to find a nice corner with me?”

“A nice corner? We’re in a nice- oh! That kind of corner!” Tobias chuckled, his ears burning as he realized what Amarinda was hinting at.

“I take that as a yes?”

“It better not be a corner where I can see you,” Renlyn gagged. “So childish.”

Renlyn’s obvious discomfort at the possibility of catching Tobias and Amarinda tenderly wrapped in an embrace drew a series of giggles from Imogen. She smiled, “It’s only childish if you get caught. I strictly remember seeing you with-“

“That’s not important!”

“Does Renlyn have a secret admirer?” Amarinda widened her eyes, plastering a mask of utter shock on her features.

“I most certainly do not! I have better things to do with my time!”

“Kissing is a good thing to do when you have the time,” Tobias teased. “Especially when you have the right partner, speaking of which. . .”

Renlyn jumped to her feet, “Don’t! No, no, no! I don’t want to see that!”

Tobias pressed a kiss to Amarinda’s nose, “See this?”

“No, I think she means this,” Amarinda explained, leaning in to kiss Tobias’s smile.

The cry of frustration Renlyn made only made Imogen laugh harder, which made Amarinda laugh, and then lead to Tobias’s burst of laughter too. Renlyn stood up, embroidery in hand, and bowed.

“I’ll be meeting with my staff, send a page if you have any questions,” she spat. “And if I find out the decorations aren’t taken care of because the two of you are off in a corner unable to keep your hands to yourselves, I’ll-”

“It’s alright, Ren, we’re just teasing you,” Amarinda’s laughter was contagious, her smile lit up the room.

“Whatever, I’m trusting you to stick to your duties.”

“And I promise neither Tobias nor I will disappoint.”

“Is this the conclusion to Drylliad’s first party planning committee meeting?” Imogen asked, laughter twinkling in her eyes.

“Consider this meeting adjourned, we’ll return to further discuss our plans in a few hours’ time,” Renlyn bowed her head, clasped her hands behind her back, and left the atrium

“Party planning committee?” Tobias couldn’t contain his laughter.

Imogen shrugged, “We needed an official name, ‘Sisters of the Book Embroidery Circle and Tobias’ doesn’t really work.”

“Does this mean we’re going to go behind Jaron’s back when he says he’ll think about throwing parties?” Amarinda wrinkled her nose. “I’m in, especially if party funds come from our purses rather than Carthya’s.”

Amarinda was proving her promise to Renlyn only half an hour later; after she and Tobias had finished in their private corner of course.

Tobias had witnessed battle firsthand, he’d been subject to various types of terrors, and he’d seen many a grisly sight while working with the royal physician.

His precious wife had the strength of a military commander when it came to planning a party.

Her troops were the artisans and servants standing at her feet. Half of them held themselves like cornered mice, and the other half gawked at Amarinda. Her ability to capture any crowd’s attention was a talent not many people had.

“My lady, traditionally, Blackberry Night is much less detailed,” explained a larger gentleman.

Tobias wasn’t exactly sure what position the large gentleman held.

“No, no,” Amarinda shook her head. “I don’t think you understand, it’s vital that we stick to pinks, golds, and creams. This should be treated like a gala, not a barn dance.”

He wasn’t quite sure what to add, Amarinda was handling the situation on her own. He’d rather remain silent than hold her back.

So he watched his wife command her troops.

Amarinda motioned for several servants carrying baskets of brambles to stand before her. She instructed them to put the brambles around the base of every column in the great hall. With that taken care of, Amarinda began instructing the next group.

Watching her was fascinating. Tobias continued to stand behind her, watching as the great hall slowly began its transformation.

When he was younger, his grandmother brought him wondrous books of fairies and knights. Tobias could remember that one of the books was painted, and bore pictures of a magnificent fairy kingdom.

By the time Renlyn, Amarinda, and Imogen were done with the castle, Tobias was certain he’d see that fairy kingdom in person.

“Do you think Renlyn will take care of the lights? She didn’t give me specific instructions, and I’d hate to mess up her grand vision,” Amarinda said, reaching back for Tobias’s hand.

“I think it’s alright,” he shrugged. “She trusts you enough to do this.”

Was it wrong that Tobias was slightly shocked that Renlyn was even allowing Amarinda, Imogen, and himself to help with her plans?

He’d grown to be on better terms with her, but Tobias knew how important order was to Lady Renlyn Karise. Trusting others to maintain that order wasn’t always an easy choice.

Tobias would know. He’d rather do things on his own than trust the other physician’s apprentices to do the same task.

The front doors burst open, and a trio of men stumbled in.

Odd, Roden and his friends rarely slurred around drunk during the day. Was that Mott with them?

Tobias rolled his eyes, returning his attention to Amarinda and the task at hand. It wasn’t his responsibility to limp Roden and whoever else up to their rooms. They were grown men, and Tobias didn’t want to play nursemaid any longer.

“By the Saints-,” Amarinda gasped, shooing the servants away. “Tobias, Tobias! Look!”

“It’s only Roden, I think he managed to drag Mott to a tavern this time,” he waved his hand.

Amarinda’s voice went small, “That’s Jaron, Tobias, not Roden.”

It clicked into place, almost. The realization wasn’t quite there, similar to the way not every toy’s pieces fit together when assembled by a child.

Roden was shoving his way through the small crowd that had gathered around Mott, and was pushing them back as Harlowe ducked under Jaron’s arm. Feall had his arm wrapped around his torso, supported by Mott.

Vomit stained Jaron’s trousers.

His skin was paler than the freshly washed sheets out in the courtyard.

Tobias recognized the lines of pain on Jaron’s face. The creases in between his brows grew deeper as Jaron fought off tears. Jaron didn’t have any outer injuries.

This was much worse.

“Get him upstairs!” Tobias barked, his voice not his own. “Mott, tell me what happened, spare me no details.”

“Faola attack,” Mott grunted, and transferred half of Feall’s weight to Roden’s outstretched arms. “He was asking for Feall, Jaron attacked, the Faola got a kick at Jaron’s right leg and sent him straight down. Commander Regar managed to hold the Faola off long enough to escape, but Feall is sporting an-”

“Take care of the king!” Feall growled. “I was foolish to trust you Carthyans with this matter, and now Regar is dead!”

Roden was practically carrying Feall, “Did you see Regar fall?”

Mott shook his head, “Regar is in danger, Roden, I can handle carrying Feall up to the physician’s chambers, but you need to save Regar. Check by the Vaults, lower Drylliad.”

“Don’t let either of them die, Tobias,” Roden grunted. “I’ll be back.”

Faces of shock passed. Tobias ordered the physician’s apprentices out of the chamber, and instantly began shuffling through herbs and poultices. Imogen soon joined him, and began grinding various herbs into powder.

She was pouring the mixture down Jaron’s throat within seconds.

Tobias began patting down Jaron’s ankle, checking for broken bones. He couldn’t see any evidence of breakage, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any damage.

“Imogen?” Tobias asked, gesturing to Jaron’s thigh. “Any breaks?”

She shook her head, “None that I can feel. Hand me a knife, I can cut through the trouser leg.”

“You’re being awfully calm.”

“My anger is balancing my hysteria, Tobias. I promise you’ll see my temper very soon.”

Her threat carried too much weight.

Her tea-colored eyes so full of kindness turned to stone all too easily.

“Come- come here,” Jaron murmured, sweat trailing down his temples. “Imogen-.”

“Keep quiet, I promise I’ll listen,” Imogen swore, she quietly gestured to the shears on Tobias’s worktable.

Shears in hand, Tobias began cutting away Jaron’s trouser leg, tossing aside the vomit covered fabric each time he finished with it.

“I know- I know who- ah!”

“Sorry, found the bruise,” Tobias choked, gesturing to the foot sized shadow on Jaron’s thigh.

He’d never heard Imogen swear that profusely before.

“The Faola did this to you?” Imogen murmured, her hands balling into fists.

“I suppose he didn’t like my sense of-,” Jaron coughed. “My sense of humor. But that’s not what I need to-”

Tobias frowned at Jaron’s bruise, “He needs to stop talking.”

“I think I know who Mireldis Thay is!”

“Imogen, he’s getting delirious-”

“Let me speak To- ow!” Jaron flung his head back against his pillow. “Curse this-!”

Jaron’s forehead was slightly warmer than usual, but not dangerously hot. His ramblings cut through the chamber as Tobias left Imogen at Jaron’s bedside, and returned with a damp cloth for Jaron’s forehead.

He once again swore that he knew who Mireldis Thay was.

“Where’s Ren?” rasped Jaron.

“She’s busy,” Tobias said. “And you need to rest. Your leg is bruised, but not broken. You’re to lay low for the next few days.”

“There’s too much to do!”

“You’ll have to trust us to take care of it then. We’ll put on Blackberry Night in your absence.”

“Tobias!”

“Imogen’s in on it too!”

That earned him a pair of angry glares. Imogen frowned, and dabbed at Jaron’s forehead, “You need to lay back, Jaron. Can you do that for me?”

The fire in Jaron’s eyes was clouded with pain, even Tobias could see that. He grumbled a complaint, but finally settled back into the pillows.

Mott lingered in the back of the chamber, and gestured for Tobias.

Imogen had finally managed to capture Jaron’s attention. His gaze was glued to her face. Every so often, Imogen brushed a stray curl from his damp forehead.

They didn’t need Tobias’s company.

“Do you think Regar will be alright?” Tobias asked as he stood next to Mott. He pressed a hand over his heart, hoping the motion would force himself to calm down.

“Count to ten, time sped up for a moment,” Mott murmured. “Does it always feel that rushed when somebody comes needing medical attention?”

One, two, three. . .Tobias inhaled. Four, five, six. . . Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. In. Out.

The stakes were different in Jaron’s case because not only was he Tobias’s friend, he was also the king. Jaron’s survival was the highest priority.

Death was unpredictable, and Tobias only had his mind to combat it.

“Yes and no,” he shrugged. “Sometimes the patient is too far gone, and sometimes the rush of the moment slows to a still. I always carry extra concern for Jaron; you never know what kind of trouble he gets into.”

“Where is Feall?” Mott scratched the back of his bald head.

“Another chamber, we typically keep patients in separate spaces, keeps things clean and tidy.”

Tobias pinched the bridge of his nose, his heart had finally calmed.

A lone Faola had attacked four men, if Mott’s report was true. The Faola challenged not only Feall, but Mott, Regar, and the king of Carthya.

Two of those four were left wounded.

Roden would be returning soon with word about the third.

“Jaron’s claiming that he knows who Mireldis Thay is,” Tobias noted.

“Not quite sure how he figured that out, or where he got the time,” said Mott. He inhaled. “Is he going to be alright?”

If Tobias’s assumption was right, and the only damage Jaron sustained was that large bruise on his leg, everything would be fine.

But things rarely worked out in Tobias’s favor.

He rolled his shoulders forward ever so slightly, his mind winding through layers and layers of ignored findings. The Faola had attacked Feall so long ago, and Tobias had to stand in Roden’s way.

His kindness had brought harm to Jaron, his closest friend.

This was his fault.

“I can see your guilt, Tobias,” Mott muttered. He frowned, “This is out of your control.”

“But I was there, Mott, I was there during the first attack. I couldn’t let somebody die, and now Jaron’s tossing on a medical cot because of it!”

Tobias flinched at his own words.

He hadn’t meant to grow so frustrated.

Had they been wrong in pushing aside Mireldis Thay? Did she have more to do with the Faola? Was Feall right in fearing her every move?

Was Oberson’s irrational fear of Lady Thay really that irrational?

Imogen chuckled lightly, she was holding Jaron’s hand. His eyes had finally closed.

“There’s something I-,” Jaron paused to heave in a breath. “Tobias, you need to do something for me.”

“Promise me you’ll rest and I’ll consider it,” Tobias countered.

Jaron’s ghostly smile didn’t belong on his exhausted face. “I need you to ask questions for me.”

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

The great hall had changed in the few hours Tobias had tended to Jaron. Renlyn’s staff was all too talented at quietly setting up for a ball.

He doubted that this was the first time she’d set something up like this.

It was easy, slipping through the crowds of servants rushing to fulfill Renlyn’s requests. Tobias usually didn’t sneak. There wasn’t a reason to suspect him of everything.

But this time was different.

This time, he was sneaking around for Jaron. His instructions were clear.

Jaron insisted that a certain troubadour knew more than he let on. It was this realization that led to Jaron’s bruised leg, he was sure of it.

Jolly would be hiding at the Dragon’s Keep, singing bawdy songs and asking for garlins.

It was Tobias’s duty to get Jolly to share crucial information.

Tobias? A spy?

It was bad enough sneaking around trying to find murky answers, but it was worse knowing that Jaron expected a handful of murky answers.

The Dragon’s Keep was more crowded than usual. Tobias crossed his arms as he slipped in, dodging as many flying fists as he could.

The bright orange jerkin was the first thing he saw. Jolly was slumped in a corner booth, his lute at his side.

“Not who I was expecting, Lord Branch,” Jolly smirked. He gestured to the open seat across from him. “I’m only a little disappointed, but you’re welcome to take a seat.”

“Who were you hoping for?” Tobias muttered, sitting down across from Jolly. He shook his head when a barmaid offered to bring him a drink.

“A king, I suppose.”

“Jaron?”

“Be more creative.”

“Oberson?”

“Closer, but not quite.”

Games, games. Tobias pinched his nose, “Jaron was attacked today, he was trying to keep an eye out for Feall.”

“He’s meddling,” Jolly called over a barmaid, asking for another drink. “You caught me at a bad time, I’m frustrated and raging drunk.”

“Why?”

“Friends, I suppose. I love my friend with my whole heart, but she’s going down a path I will not follow.”

Ah ha! Jolly had left a door open for questions. Tobias leaned his elbows on the table, trying his best not to seem too eager. “What’s her name?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, doctor boy?”

“I would, actually.”

“It’s not my story to tell, I’m sorry,” Jolly took his fresh tankard, and drained as much liquid as he could.

It wasn’t his story to tell. A friend was going down an unfollowable path. A lute was playing, and a man’s low voice rang through the hushing crowd. Jaron had hummed the song multiple times throughout the week.

Ingrithay.

Tobias smacked his forehead, cursing himself for forgetting vital history lessons with his wife late at night. Ingrid Thay. Ingri. Ingri Thay.

Ingrithay.

“Ingrithay is about the queen of Idunn Craich, isn’t it? Queen Ingrid Thay, wife of Graer Thay, stepmother to Mireldis Thay. You’ve been dropping clues.”

Jolly threw back his head and laughed, “I’ve been dropping clues!?! I’ve thrown them to you as best I can, but I will not tell the story. It is against what I do; if I can’t keep a secret, I can’t keep my head.”

“I’m a member of Queen Danika’s family, you can-”

“Through marriage, Lord Branch,” Jolly corrected.

“That still holds, you can tell me. You have nothing to fear. I know you know who Mireldis Thay is, and I want to help. Tell me who she is, and we can-”

“I love Mireldis Thay more than I fear any king or queen, my Lord. No bargaining in the world would change my stance.”

Tobias had never seen Jolly’s face so serious before, and frankly, it frightened him. There was no trace of a smile or a musical note.

Nothing but determination.

“Amarinda and I want to-,” Tobias began, but Jolly held up his hand.

“I’ll give you a single hint, but don’t betray my trust, Tobias. There is more to me than music and laughter.”

More than music and laughter.

He shuddered despite the warmth in the tavern.

Jolly drained the rest of his tankard, and slammed it down. He dragged his hand across his face, “Mireldis Thay has a bone to pick. I won’t help her, and I won’t stop her, but you can do what you can.”

“Tell me where she is, Jolly,” Tobias grunted. “She attacked the king, didn’t she?”

“To her, Jaron is a blocking piece. She’s still a princess, despite this all, and you know how royals get.”

A memory flashed across Tobias’s vision.

A glimpse of a smug, rare smirk.

His heart thudded in his ears, and he was certain he was correct.

But he needed Jolly to say it.

Tobias’s voice was small. Too small. “Mireldis Thay has been living under our noses the entire time, hasn’t she?”

All it took was the slightest nod of Jolly’s head. “You know her, and I know her. Mireldis has played this game with only one goal in mind, and soon she’ll have her winning move.”

A rare smirk, a flash of gold hair. Tobias pressed his fists to his eyes.

Mireldis Thay, a fugitive, was serving the queen of Carthya.

And Tobias had left her in the castle, close enough to the king to strike a killing blow.

He tried to ignore Jolly’s chilling laugh as he fled the tavern.

#fic friday #the ascendance series #ocs #the whole crew got involved with this one #tospias #tobias #prince jaron #roden #princess amarinda #imogen #mott

13 notes · View notes