#autumn de wilde mention

[pheita]

Blood Night Alternative Beginning

Yeah, the Make me Write Tag made me do this lol

I decided to switch between Lyran and Arritit for this one because it's more fun. Plus it offers some more insight we didn't had in the original version that is only Sojan's POV

So what changed? Basically a bit about the timeframe. Lyran didn't got stuck in Lagawood and met Sojan but got stuck in a town a day walk away from it weeks before and runs into Arritit because of this.

Tagging @ashen-crest @abalonetea @contes-de-rheio @writingamongther0ses @chris-the-dragonslayer since you were on the old tag list. Also tagging @tabswrites because of the make me write tag of her.

Don't forget all of my WIP stuff can be found @lagawood-guildhouse

Warnings for alcohol mentions, blood, stabbing, minor violence

A little protected from prying eyes, Arritit sat in the pub and thought. Autumn had reached its midpoint and soon winter would stretch out its long icy and snowy fingers. If she wanted to arrive in Stramsa'gonil before the big snow, she had to hurry, and above all, hope that her brother Sojan was planning to spend the winter in Lagawood as usual, and that she could collect him there.

The chance that he had not yet noticed that their father had become active again was definitely there, where he traveled as a hunter over the whole continent. On the other hand, maybe he had already noticed something without knowing what it was.

The playing of a lute made them sit up and take notice. A young bard in blue and green robes had sat down on the small stage. The wild black curls were just a little tamed and were banded with a colorful ribbon. Filigree fingers plucked the strings with an elegance that spoke of years of practice, as did the soft tenor voice that rose above it all as if it were no effort. A laugh escaped her when she noticed that he had added more depth to his eyes with black makeup, making those unnatural green eyes stand out even more. Even if he looked human, his blood was clearly not, Arritit as a shaman saw that immediately.

The thought brought her back to her problem. She was sure that this time they would have to face their father, and she didn't know if Sojan was ready, or her mother. She wouldn't be able to do it alone, especially with the insane twins on her father's side. Sighing, she emptied her mug of beer and went to get another. The only good thing about being a demon was that she had a very high alcohol tolerance, yet she was cautious.

Slowly, she put one foot in front of the other, so others would think she was getting drunk, and walked to the counter. She twirled her index finger and pointed into the empty pitcher. "One more." "You sure?" "Still standing, am I?" The innkeeper just shrugged and took the pitcher to draw another beer. This close to the small stage, Arritit took the chance to eye the bard more closely.

It might have been the alcohol, or the fact that she hadn't had sex in almost a month, or it might have been the fact that she was about to make a leap in her magic, but she had to admit that he was appealing to her.

The fine clothing stretched too much during the lute playing for him to be an effeminate fellow, and the question of what was there in his bloodline and how that might play out in bed crossed her mind, even though she rarely took a man to bed.

The thought of all she had left behind in Ryenaton flitted through her mind like a withered bush in a storm, but she pushed it aside. Her eyes still on the bard, who by now had intoned a lewd drinking song, she took two coins from her purse and placed them on the table. The innkeeper looked at her in confusion. "For our singing friend. He'll be thirsty from all that singing." The innkeeper nodded and drew another beer and set it out for the bard with a nod to Arritit. The bard smiled with a brief lowering of his head. Satisfied, she made her way back to the table where she sat before, knowing that it would still be free as little was going on today. She didn't sit long when a drunken man staggered in her direction.

Ready to fight back if necessary, her fingers sought the hidden dagger in her belt and with the other plucked her oversized scarf so that everyone could see the necklace with the many pendants that identified her as a shaman or mage. For most people, it was enough of a clue, but not for this man. Either he was too drunk or too stubborn or just horny that he didn't care and continued his way to her.

""Traveling all alone like this, beautiful?" "Yes, and I'm not your beautiful or sweetie, and I'm not interested either. If you want to keep your balls and not hang head over heels from the tallest building in the morning, then leave me alone." "Oh, look at that. A harpy," he just grinned and sat down without being asked. Arritit kicked the chair in front that he, so that it landed on the floor. Through the noise, some looked over, but no one reacted. It was not surprising. "You've got fire, I'll give you that," the man laughed as he got to his feet. "I'd be happy to show you how fiery I am." "Now we're talking the same language."

She rolled her eyes. It was becoming more and more obvious that she was dealing with the sort particularly brash and stupid. Slowly, she stood up and picked up her mug. Her eyes searched for another free table when she felt herself being grabbed by the arm. "Let go of me if you are true to your fingers." "If I were you, I would do as the lady asked."

The new voice made Arritit blink. Behind the sleazy guy, the bard had appeared. The eyes that previously laughed and flirted with the crowd were now cold and spoke of murderous desire. "And you want to stop me?" the man laughed out loud. "You should never underestimate someone based on their looks my friend, besides I prefer to play without interference, and you are an interference and a pest. So now let go of the lady and get lost." "What if I don't?" Arritit was pulled by the arm. She used the momentum it gave her to stab with the dagger. Only slightly delayed, the bard had struck.

His nose bloody and a non-fatal stab wound to the abdomen later, the man lay on the ground, whimpering like a toddler. "You have a dagger?" "You punched?" Astonishment on both sides gave way to laughter. The bard looked down with a frown. "The stab wound doesn't look too bad." "I'm a shaman, I know how to stab without killing." "I saw that." He pointed to her necklace for clarification. "I'm Lyran." "Arritit." "May I invite you to come further forward?" Amused, she looked at him. "So you can protect me?" "Much more so that I can protect my audience before you stab them all in their folly."

Lyran extended his arm to her with a playful smirk. She couldn't tell what it was exactly, but Arritit liked it. "So you're the protector of the poor and helpless?" she teased him, getting a loud laugh in response. "No, I don't have the combat experience for that then, but I do what I can, where I can." "That is already more than others do." "That may be true. So you are the avenger of women?" "Only when someone gets too close to me."

She grinned challengingly at him. Lyran raised an eyebrow, yet he smirked and led her to one of the empty tables almost directly by the stage. With a kiss on the hand and a bow, he went back to his seat and took up the lute as if nothing had happened. Arritit laughed softly into her mug. Lyran had just managed to make himself even more interesting to her.

[prettyoddfever]

Hi! I dont often use tumblr anymore or send in asks but i wanted to enquire about autumn de wildes photos of panic! That where featured in spin magazine, i figured if anybody knew them it would be you. I checked Autumns wikipedia page and there is an archived article under her name however the photos of panic! That go along with it weren’t archived and the page no longer exists.

(This is the page, the tour gallery is completely wiped)

I know that Autumn did Ryans bird makeup initially as well as probably his lightning bolt look, these are the photos that i have a strong inclination to believe are taken by Autumn

My girlfriend and i are absolutely huge fans of pre split panic! As well as Autumn De Wilde so i figured there was no harm in asking if you knew anything more! Thanks so much :)

Hi! Yes, Autumn took some incredible pics while shadowing the band in July 2006. This is my tag for any of her pics I've uploaded so far (many of which were from the old gallery you mentioned). Here are my thoughts on the makeup look that Autumn did. And then this is random but I'll throw it in here too:

[the---hermit]

end of the year book tag 2023

I did this tag last year more or less at this time. This book tag was created by Ariel Bissett over on youtube, and I recently heard her talking about it again in her podcast, which is how I got the inspiration of doing it again this year. As I think I have also mentioned last year when doing this, I tend to be a mood reader so planning my next reads never really works, but it's fun to sit down and reflect a bit on what is coming next into my reading life before the year is over.

Are there any books you started this year that you need to finish?

As I am writing this I have three main books I am in the middle of: Hell Followed With us by Andrew Joseph White, Finn Family Moomintroll by Tove Jansson and Queer: A Graphic History by Meg-John Barker. I have technically also started reading Walden by Thoreau a while back, but I don't have a plan to finish it quickly, it's more one of those books I read a little bit every once in a while when I feel like it, because I want to grasp as much as I can and while I am also taking classes and studying for exams I always struggle a bit with enjoying non-fic on my own.

Do you have an autumnal book to transition into the end of the year?

I am once again doing this tag in the middle of autumn, so idk how much it counts, but I don't think I have a proper autumnal book on my tbr/wishlist. I am still waiting to get the sixth volume of Something Is Killing The Children, which is an horror graphic novel so that might count as a spooky season book. But I don't really wait spooky season to read horror books.

Is there a new release you're still waiting for?

As I mentioned the sixth volume of Something Is Killing The Children has very recently came out here in Italy and I am desperately waiting to find a copy of it. I am also waiting to get Bookstores And Bonedust by Travis Baldree which is coming out at the beginning of November. There are a couple of other 2023 releases I still haven't got my hands on but I don't know yet if I'll get them before the year ends (mainly He Who Drowned The World by Shelly Parker Chan, and The Land Of Lost Things by John Connolly). I am also waiting for the release of the final book in the locked tomb series but I don't think a release date has been set yet? (and regarding that I have yet to decide what I want to do because I would like to get physical copies of the English editions, but it will be a future me problem to solve).

What are three books you want to read before the end of the year?

One of my goals for 2023 is the read all the books I have bought this year, or at least as many as I can. I must say I have been very good with this goal, but I do have a couple of books that have been sitting on my shelf for a while. I don't know if I'll get into the right mood to read them before the year ends but I will add a couple of those to this list. The first one is Nel Buio Della Casa by Fiore Manni and Michele Monteleone. It's an horror novel of the hauted house genre which is one of my favourites but for some reason I haven't picked it up yet. Next is a book I cannot wait to pick up The Ballad Of The Reading Gaol by Oscar Wilde, I love this author and after reading De Profundis earlier this year I have been really intrigued by this poem. Finally I bought a prose edition of The Odyssey and I might end up picking it up before the year ends.

Is there a book you think could still shock you and become your favourite book of the year?

Not really? I expect to love a lot of the books I'd like to read before the end of the year but there's a couple of books I read this year that I doubt can be topped (Gideon The Ninth being at the top of that list alongside The Priory Of The Orange Tree).

Have you already started making reading plans for next year?

I actually have, weirdly enough. I was thinking about goals for next year and I think I will definitely keep the goal of trying to read all/ most of the books I buy during the year. I certainly need to find a way to read more of the books that have been on my shelves for years, so I will have to think of a more structured plan to reach that goal. I am also considering to create a goal to finally complete my Neil Gaiman collection since this year I have read all of the books by him I own. That could be a fun goal I think. Lastly I'd like to try and get as many books as I can second hand. It's not really super easy for me to do, because where I live there are no second hand book stores, and generally what I look for is quite difficult to find in regular shops, but there's a few exceptions, like classics for example are easier to thrift. Again these are more brain dump thoughts than an actual plan, but it's more than what I had last year at this time.

(no pressure) tags: @just-a-cup-of-anxietea, @fluencylevelfrench, @dreamofghosts, @upside-down-uni, @la-galaxie-langblr

[athomewithlauraandpepe]

**Laura and Pepe’s Guide to De Beauvoir**

From the moment I strolled past the vibrant Hectors on a crisp autumn evening while on my way to view my flat, I knew De Beauvoir had captured my heart. Nearly 18 months have passed since then, and I've had the privilege of calling this enchanting pocket of London home. In that time, I've explored the diverse and delightful establishments that dot the neighbourhood, each contributing its own unique flair to the tapestry of De Beauvoir.

**EAT**

*SWEET THURSDAY* - Indulge in mouthwatering pizza, pasta, and delightful salads at this gem. Whether you choose to dine in or opt for a takeaway via online ordering or Deliveroo, be sure to try the Pesto Dip—it's an absolute game-changer. And don't forget to explore their fantastic selection of natural wines in the bottle shop.

*THE TALBOT* - Immerse yourself in the cosy gastropub vibes of The Talbot. With a consistently excellent menu and a roast that's nothing short of exceptional, this intimate spot also boasts a selection of meticulously crafted cocktails.

*THE HUNTER S* - Affectionately known as the 'porn pub,' The Hunter S is a haven for delectable pub grub and roasts. Don't miss their honey mustard sausages—my personal favourite. It's also a fantastic spot to bask in the summer sun on their outdoor benches.

*DE BEAUVOIR ARMS* - Surprise, surprise—more delicious pub food awaits at De Beauvoir Arms. Their memorable roast, especially the incredible chicken gravy, has secured its place in my heart. Whether it's a laid-back weekday evening or a weekend lunch, DBA never disappoints, offering a tempting £8.50 lunch menu on weekdays.

**DRINK**

*HECTORS* - This lively spot holds a special place in my heart, as I first spotted it while viewing my flat. The outdoor buzz, come rain or shine, complements a curated collection of natural wines, making Hectors a perennial favourite.

*THE SCOLT HEAD* - While it rightfully deserves a spot in the 'eat' section, I can't help but categorise it under 'drink' due to the sheer fun it exudes. Many unplanned nights out have stemmed from the infectious vibes at The Scolt Head.

*DUKE OF YORK* - What sets Duke of York apart for me is its ambient lighting—vintage French style that creates the cosiest atmosphere. Beyond the aesthetics, they also know their way around a good cocktail.

*ROSEMARY BRANCH* - Despite being in the 'drink' section, Rosemary Branch is renowned for its soulful atmosphere. Known for a great roast and the occasional piano accompaniment at 4 pm, it's a delightful pub that transcends expectations.

**BRUNCH**

*DE BEAUVOIR DELI* - A renowned spot for a leisurely brunch, De Beauvoir Deli offers a cosy setting, even during winter when you can snugly sit outside with a blanket. With a regularly changing menu, it's perfect for a sit-down meal or grab-and-go options like bagels and coffee.

*BOBO & WILD* - Nestled on the edge of De Beauvoir, overlooking Shoreditch Park, Bobo & Wild is a go-to for a tasty brunch. Friendly staff and a comfortable ambiance make it an excellent spot for both indulgence and productivity.

**COFFEE**

This section, perhaps unsurprisingly, is the most extensive, reflecting the abundance of excellent coffee spots in the area. It's worth mentioning that, although I'm not a coffee drinker myself, my friends who are enthusiasts confirm the delightful quality of coffee in the below. I will however highlight the things I love about these establishments as I go.

*DE BEAUVOIR DELI* - Beyond its delectable British fare, the Deli's vibrant scene outside and a hatch for takeaway coffee make it a morning go-to. Don't miss the Dusty Knuckle cinnamon bun—a personal morning ritual.

*DE BEAUVOIR WHOLEFOODS* - Right across from the Deli, Wholefoods serves up more than just groceries. A hatch offers coffee, hot and cold beverages, baked goods, and sandwiches. My personal favourite? The Turmeric Latte.

*BATCH BABY* - Embracing a hip and trendy vibe, Batch Baby, located in the Rose Lipman building, offers a cosy space that doubles as a perfect spot to work.

*2&4 VINTAGE* - Enjoy your coffee surrounded by beautiful vintage pieces at 2&4 Vintage. Maurice's fabulous collection adds a touch of charm to your coffee and cake experience.

*52A COFFEE HOUSE* - Selma's beautiful coffee shop on the corner of Southgate and Downham Road boasts a cosy atmosphere and an extensive selection of delicious cakes and brownies.

*MIRA* - Opposite The Hunter S, Mira stands out with its charming tiles that read 'Milk, Eggs, Butter.' Offering basic staples and salads, it's a fantastic spot for a quick coffee fix. My personal favourite? The homemade cake.

**DO**

*ROSEMARY BRANCH THEATRE* - Inside the pub where I once spotted Greg James, the Rosemary Branch Theatre hosts a variety of performances and community experiences, ranging from theatre and comedy to live music and workshops. Keep an eye out for the upcoming festival of female, femme, and non-binary-led clowning and comedy called 'Look for the Woman,' starting on March 1st.

*JAZZ @ SCOLT HEAD* - Every last Thursday of the month, the back room at The Scolt Head transforms into a jazz club with Peter Werth and his Jazz Crew. Having recently discovered this hidden gem, I'm committed to making it a regular occurrence. The experience is truly incredible, and booking a table is a must.

*REGENTS CANAL* - Embark on a scenic journey along Regent's Canal. Head left towards Haggerston, London Fields, and eventually Victoria Park to discover seasonal gems like Towpath and bustling markets like Broadway Market and Victoria Park Market on weekends. If you turn right along Regents Canal, you'll find yourself in Angel, with Camden Passage being my favourite spot in the area.

[isobelleposts]

Jane Austen’s Humor in ‘Emma’ - Book vs. Film Review

Anya Taylor-Joy as Emma Woodhouse in 'Emma. (2020)'

The 2020 adaptation of Emma directed by Autumn de Wilde might just be the most precise when it comes to showcasing Jane Austen’s humor. It is often that when one mentions Jane Austen, they might think of words like “melodramatic” or “tragic”, when really if you’ve read the books you’d know that Austen’s works are considered moreover humorous with a touch of romance.

‘Emma’ is not only a part of my list of comfort films because it stars Anya Taylor-Joy, but because, unlike most classic adaptations, the film was able to feel light and not as if it were made with the intention of being overly sophisticated and serious.

Emma Woodhouse and Johnny Flynn as George Knightley

LOVE & HATE

My annotations on the book alone greatly prove how much of a love and hate relationship Mr. Knightley and Emma have, being that it is only filled with the colors red for conflict and pink for romance.

How could you be so unfeeling to Miss Bates? How could you be so insolent in your wit to a woman of her character, age, and situation? – Emma, I had not thought it possible.

Page 364 of 'Emma' by Jane Austen

The “hating” part of their relationship feels natural and reasonable unlike some that may seem superficial if set outside of the fantasy genre.

It darted through her, with the speed of an arrow, that Mr. Knightley must marry no one but herself!

Page 396 of 'Emma' by Jane Austen

While the heated arguments between Emma and Mr. Knightley had me re-enacting them and looking manically in my bedroom as I read, their signs of affection for each other were also consistent and displayed in several actions, letting there be a perfect balance of loathing and love all throughout and not only near the end when one finally confesses of their likeness.

MR KNIGHTLEY

What I love most about Austen’s writing is how her men are deemed attractive for their personalities and wit rather than for their physical appearances, and this is something that I might say almost every film adaptation has made sure to succeed in making clear.

“As a friend!” – repeated Mr Knightley. – “Emma, that I fear is a word. – No, I have no wish. – Stay, yes, why should I hesitate? – I have gone too far already for concealment. – Emma, I accept your offer – Extraordinary as it may seem, I accept it, and refer myself to you as my friend. – Tell me, then, have I no chance of ever succeeding?”

Page 416 of 'Emma' by Jane Austen

There were many things that the film was able to visualize better and re-envisioned than I could ever have just from reading between Austen’s lines. Aside from the humor that I sometimes find hard to decipher, Autumn de Wilde directed what I consider one of the most tension-filled dances I’ve yet to find in period cinema, and it will continually haunt me as the reason why I may forever remain uninvolved in romance due to highly set expectations.

Although there were pages that seemed awfully prolonged which I would have enjoyed more if worded much shorter, ‘Emma’ is one of the most exciting classic reads I’ve ever encountered and is one the books that doesn’t have you itching your mind almost every few pages for what the hell this sentence might mean.

(Click HERE for Writing Commissions)

by Isobelle Cruz, 11/06/2022

[baezdylan]

OOOOOOOOOH ok ok ok:

Panic! at the Disco

boygenius

Song: this movement of dvorak’s symphony no. 9

& Dance Fever

HEY LIZ!!!!!!!🧡 thanks for stopping by MWAH

*I am not doing the rating thing because it feels wrong to me for some reason and this is my blog -> I shall do what I please

p!atd:

Do I know them already?: yes | no 

Favourite Song: she had the world (alternate version), i have friends in holy spaces/northern downpour (they must be listed as a couple) + MUST mention crazy=genius if solely for the I'M A FUCKING ARSONIST! I'M A ROCKET SCIENTIST! it gives me too much serotonin for me to avoid it

Least Favourite Song: I am horrible at this game already, but I can't say I dislike any of the songs (that I've heard, because I still haven't gotten around to exploring the last two albums) enough to mention it in this context

Favourite Album: LIVE IN CHICAGO (a fever you can't sweat out ✅ pretty. odd ✅ alternate versions ✅ live album ✅ is this cheating?)

Song That Got Me Into Them: it was Ivy (@god-nonsensical) and YOU LIZ!!!! but you guys are songs, so this isn't cheating xoxo (I am sword-fighting the rules of this ask game and I am WINNING WOOOOO)

Seen Live: In my dreams? Sure.

boygenius:

do i know them already: yes | no (I GUESS THIS IS HOW I FINALLY START LISTENING TO PHOEBE BRIDGERS)

First Song YouTube Took Me To:

THEIR TINY DESK CONCERT AND BOY AM I GLADDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!! (omg smilesss in the thumbnail 🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡)

First Impression: ME AND MY DOG???? (kissing this song but shhhhhh I wish I was on a spaceship!!!!!)

Do I like It?: lame question, next!

Would I Listen To More From Them?: listening to the ep as we blog

Song: couldn’t finish it | not my thing | it’s fine | I could get into this | ooo I like | oh hell yeah | fuck this is some good shit | there aren’t even words, this transcends words  (jo march coded!!!!!!)

I am soooooo close to crying, is all I'm saying... (THIS ASK IS AN ADVENTURE *melts* ly liz)

also:

it is now hanging out with the girls 😎

dance fever:

Opinion On Cover Design:

INCREDIBLE!!!!!! Well. This is Autumn de Wilde, of course it is. ALTHOUGH! Even though I think this is the perfect cover and I wouldn't change it, I must list this as my favourite picture from the photoshoot:

IT'S JUST SO!!!!!!!! (used to be my lockscreen for a while!)

Favourite Song: THE BOMB! Closely followed by Cassandra <3

Least Favourite Song: don't have one...

Underrated Track: THE BOMB

Overrated Track: there isn't one (I wouldn't be able to answer this either way, I'm simply TERRIBLE at keeping up with events and fandoms and reviews and etc etc etc grandpa girl thingzzzzz)

ask game

[scabopolis]

ooh! questions for you:

of the adaptations you've seen, which would you call the most faithful to the original text/spirit of the work?

and of them, which had the most drastic change, but you liked it because it made the story work in a new light?

okay, so aside from Pride and Prejudice (1995), which is essentially huge portions of the book faithfully adapted, I would have to say Sense and Sensibiity, the Emma Thompson version.

As a screenplay, it is almost perfect as an adaptation, imho. It sets up all the relationships perfectly, shows us how these people matter to one another, how their lives will criss cross and impact one another, and does all of that while also setting up the stakes for our family of women. It also (unlike the BBC adaptation in the 1980s, which I have not seen) keeps family and the sisters at the heart of the novel, which I think makes both Marianne's and Elinor's respective heartbreaks even more poignant. And Emma Thompson as Elinor is love letter to that character.

(Spare me this rant, but I think ignoring that critical element [that family is often at the center of Austen's novels] is why so many Austen adaptations come across a little emotionally cold. Often when people talk about Austen's books, they highlight the central romance between the hero and the heroine. [Unless you're talking about Mansfield Park and then it's just a lot of "Really, Fanny? Edmund Bertram?"] Her stories of courtship have radically impacted every form of romance content for the past 200 years, so it makes sense to a certain degree that when adaptations make cuts to the source material, what they keep fully intact is the romance. But often what gets overlooked in the adaptations is how these are such speific romances, that speak to the specific characters, at a specific point in their lives. The romance novelist Jennifer Crusie said "I think a great book is about the most important moment in a character’s life" and Austen DOES THAT! Unfortunately so many of the adaptations remove the specficity and it removes the stakes. These women are who they are because of their families. You don't really know Anne Elliot is going to be the main character of Persuasion until 30 or so pages into the book. The entire first third of the book is her in relationship to her family. There's also some evidence to suggest that Jane Austen's preferred title for the book was The Elliots. The family is at the heart of the novel. And Anne's experience of her family is what allows her relationship to Wentworth to happen the way it does. If you take out her family, if you make her family not matter to her, it does not make sense that she removes her acceptance of his proposal. Anyway. I am drawn towards the adaptations that show the complexities of familial love, as imperfect as it might be.)

As for your second question, while I didn't adore the most recent Emma (dir. Autumn de Wilde), I think that film gets the cheeky/wry tone of the source material better than most. The intertitles throughout the film, the set design, the costumes, the music, etc., all give the film this bouyancy that sets off the satire inherent to the book. This bouyancy also helps to reinforce a critical character element of Emma - that she goes through life relatively unbothered and untouched by the troubles of life. Creating a film atmosphere that feels almost cartoonish at times helps contribute to this sense that Emma is sort of disconnected from the rest of the world as it functions. In a technicolor dream world she is the most technicolor.

(I know I should probably mention the 1999 film Mansfield Park for this second question, but that movie is so barely Mansfield it seems silly to mention.)

Bonus observation: Even the most faithful adaptions depart from Emma the book in one critical way. At the end of the book, it implies that Emma and Harriet don't really remain friends; at least they are no longer close friends. Mr. Knightley is proved right, and the friendship proves to be bad in ways for both Emma and Harriet. All four adaptations I watched found a way to reconcile Emma and Harriet at the end.

[katiajewelbox]

Happy Thanksgiving from Katia Plant Scientist!

Thanksgiving is a holiday from the USA that commentates a feast. This feast took place in what is today Massachusetts and was hosted by the British immigrants and the indigenous Wampanoag people in 1621. The first Thanksgiving was probably like the traditional village harvest lunch the British immigrants celebrated back home every autumn, but with new foods their indigenous neighbours taught them how to grow.

Thanksgiving is a controversial holiday for some because it can be seen as glorifying colonialism. The cosy Thanksgiving story taught to American schoolchildren distracts from the genocide later committed against Native Americans. The holiday can also be seen as simply a time to enjoy special dishes and time with family. I feel it is important to understand the historical significance of Thanksgiving however you and yours choose to celebrate the occasion.

Surprisingly, turkey would not have been on the menu because the Wampanoag people did not have domesticated turkeys and records from that time only mention wild game as the main dish. However, pumpkins and winter squash were probably at the first Thanksgiving served since these were local domesticated plants, and a key food source for surviving the harsh New England winter.

My squash harvest is 100% homegrown, including Winter Luxury and Baby Bear Pumpkins (Cucurbita pepo) and Crown Prince, Ute, Anna Schwarz, Marina de Chioggia, Sweet Dumpling, Queensland Blue, Candy Roaster, Uchiki Kuri, and Peruvian Macre Zapallo winter squash (Cucurbita maxima).

Have a safe, peaceful, and delicious Thanksgiving!

[fuckyeahwomenfilmdirectors]

Top 10 of 2020:

Kajillionaire dir. Miranda July

First Cow dir. Kelly Reichardt

Jezebel dir. Numa Perrier

Emma. dir. Autumn de Wilde

The Half of It dir. Alice Wu

Boys State dir. Amanda McBaine & Jesse Moss 

Babyteeth dir. Shannon Murphy

The 40-Year-Old Version dir. Radha Blank

On the Rocks dir. Sofia Coppola

Miss Juneteenth dir. Channing Godfrey Peoples

Honourable Mention: 

Love & Anarchy dir. Lisa Langseth*

*It’s a TV show but I make the rules around here, I can break them.

[givemearmstopraywith]

thoughts on the new song? *holds a microphone up to you*

[taps mic]

the clubby dance vibes of it caught me off guard almost immediately but i kind of love it? it has a pop sound and structure but lyrically its not pop at all- its not even a love song, it's about the apocalypse. which honestly surprised me: the last two albums have, really, been about love, and i would say that none of the songs so far are really romantic. it's very blakean honestly, and i wouldn't be surprised if there's not more blake influence in the album as a whole. a stretch perhaps but the lyrics:

And when it came, it was stranger than I had ever imagined No cracking open up Heaven But quiet and still

with the chorus reminded me of the clod and the pebble by blake:

Love seeketh only self to please, To bind another to its delight, Joys in another's loss of ease, And builds a Hell in Heaven's despite

other people have pointed out the gatsby influenced in the video, so i won't mention it other than to say i loved the throwback to the video for shake it out. i also loved how clearly horror influenced it was. like this shot :

clearly being a reference to invasion of the body snatchers:

interspersed with the most subtle, even precious religious imagery:

and how the only person in the audience who isn't caught in this rapture-like trance is flo's doppelganger from king:

i also loved how much creepier the lace monsters are in this video, the way they slink along the ground:

i also was surprised that jack antonoff didn't produce on this, simply because of the pop sound it had, but in fairness glass animals is one of few indie pop acts i genuinely enjoy and go out of my way to listen to, so in that regard i think bayley did a fantastic job producing. overall i feel like the team around flo this time is a bit stronger and more prepared to give her artistic freedom than the team she had for hbhbhb or high as hope- nothing against those producers, but there's something very personal and dark about this, and also something very genderless. it's so very much the female gaze at play.

i know part of that is autumn de wilde's visuals, but even the lyrics seem to be coming from this very firm, powerful place. there's nothing deferential about them. her vocals as well seem to have come back to a place of extraordinary power i haven't seen since ceremonials, and i think that did, in part, have to do with the producers she was working with: you can't make a rock album with vocals like that opening sting in my love, because its a rock album. i'm in love with this song. i know some people are going to disagree with me but i think this might be her strongest album yet.

[daisiesonafield-blog]

I’m sorry but is Olivia mentioned in that Deuxmoi post? I only see Autumn de Wilde but I have no idea who is that and what that means

Hi dear,

No she's not mentioned in Deuxmoi. So I think that whatever rumor there is was started by fans.

I'm not jumping ahead and worrying, especially because I find it very difficult to believe H would do something to so publicly confirm a relationship like that when he's avoided it this whole time.

Note: related to this

[cristalconnors]

BEST FILMS of 2020- #30-21

HONORABLE MENTIONS: Crip Camp, dir. James Lebrecht & Nicole Newnham / Emma. dir. Autumn de Wilde / The Hater, dir. Jan Komasa / House of Hummingbird, dir. Bora Kim /  Liberté, dir. Albert Serra / Mangrove, dir. Steve McQueen / Matthias et Maxime, dir. Xavier Dolan / The Nest, dir. Sean Durkin / Possessor, dir. Brandon Cronenberg / Shirley, dir. Josephine Decker / The Twentieth Century, dir. Matthew Rankin / The Woman Who Ran, dir. Hong Sang-soo

30. THE 40-YEAR-OLD VERSION, dir. Radha Blank

Deftly lampoons industry expectations of what Black art can, should, or more precisely, is allowed to look like, and how restrictive those parameters are. Bucks those expectations continually while delivering laugh after laugh. 

29. SHE DIES TOMORROW, dir. Amy Seimetz

Charmingly idiosyncratic, quietly hilarious confrontations with mortality that uniformly ring true. Would you relapse because, why not? Would you become so consumed with rage that plotted to kill? Would you go swimming? Or would you wail into the night, stricken with terror like poor young Madison?

28. ZOMBI CHILD, dir. Bertrand Bonello

Sets out to make a postcolonial critique of the subversion and coopting of Haitian culture in France, particularly by the ruling class, by himself coopting the traditions of voodoo and zombie lore. It works better than it should, and is often very compelling.

27. AND THEN WE DANCED, dir. Levan Akin

A distinctly Georgian tale of first love and stifling homophobia that smartly uses dance to explore tradition and the story Georgia likes to tell about itself, successfully avoiding the cliché trappings of coming out narratives to earn a sense of tenderness and urgency.

26. BOYS STATE, dir. Amanda McBaine & Jesse Moss

Yes, it’s a perfect microcosm of the current American political climate- that’s the whole idea of Boys State, the institution. Boys State, the movie, is more interested in how youthful idealism fares against its first brush with disillusionment in the political system and how ideas are formed, learned, and changed (or not), and it’s better for it. Earns its optimism

25. MINARI, dir. Lee Isaac Chung

Speaks to a universal truth about the experience of immigrant families in the United States through specific, personally resonant lived experiences of one, Korean-American family, rendering them with tremendous warmth and tenderness.

24. SOUND OF METAL, dir. Darius Marder

A compassionate tone poem about grappling with the beast of uninvited change. How do you find purpose when the only thing that kept you going is taken away? It’s rare for a film to feel this sensorially stimulating, this tactile.

23. EDUCATION, dir. Steve McQueen

Observes the profound failings of and overt systemic oppression within the British education system from the perspective of the Black children being subjected to it. Tender, but indignant.

22. LA LLORONA, dir. Jayro Bustamante

Inspiredly uses Latin American folklore and the visual language of horror films to grapple with Guatemala’s shameful history of genocide and the ongoing cultural legacy of those atrocities.

21. PALM SPRINGS, dir. Max Barbakow

Breathes new life into a tired microgenre, nimbly drawing out probing complexities and nuances from its gimmicky conceit while oozing charm and actually managing to be consistently funny.

[filmthoughtsbyfinn]

Period Pieces and the Female Gaze: Emma and Pride and Prejudice

Jane Austen was an English Novelist who is most well known for six of her major novels: Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, Mansfield Park, Emma, Northanger Abbey, and Persuasion. Her works were known for their ability to interpret and critique the world around her. Within her plots the theme of women’s dependence on their marriageability, and the quest to be of a higher social rank is ever present.

Austen’s work has been remade multiple times, in fact there is even a war going on between the two sides of Pride and Prejudice fans. Those who think Colin Firth’s Darcy was better and those who think that Matthew Macfadyen’s was better(for those of you who want to know mine is the Macfadyen one). But what attracts women to this genre so much other than the female heroines, fantastic plot, and fun/spunky outfits?

The female gaze.

This term has recently been arising in current years at feminist film theory has progressed, originally this idea comes from the Male Gaze the term coined by Laura Mulvey in her essay “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema”. The Male Gaze is defined by Mulvey as the way in which heterosexual men view women as more of a passive object of lust than an actual character–this influences the way films are made as the majority of cast and crew in Hollywood is male(71% of all directors being male from 2017 to 2019).

In Emily Riebe’s undergraduate essay on The Feminine Gaze she references the correlation between the female gaze and what it means to feminism post #MeToo era, Riebe mentions the discussion occurring behind whether the female gaze is a purely aesthetic one dimensional. However in her paper she talks about what allowing the female sexual experience to have its own voice(the female gaze) is able to do for our society as a whole.

Therefore the female gaze represented in these two movies is palpable, many of you who have watched Pride and Prejudice will find a specific scene coming to mind when we think about the female gaze. Darcy’s hand flex, the intense eye contact and heavy breathing, the rainy confession of admiration, “Mrs. Darcy”. All of these things amount to not inherently sexual things being perceived as sexual. This is the female gaze.

On the other hand I would argue that Emma portrays the female gaze much better than Pride and Prejudice even though P&P is much more popular. I would attribute this to the gender of either director, as Emma is directed by Autumn de Wilde and Pride and Prejudice is directed by Joe Wright.

Emma doesn’t sexualize its main character quite as much as Pride and Prejudice did. One of my biggest complaints with Pride and Prejudice actually is the sexualization of Kiera Knightly. In the books Elizabeth is described as a “fine girl” not gorgeous like her sister, it wasn’t her looks that attracted Darcy. So therefore choosing arguably one of the most attractive actresses currently felt as if the movie mainly just wanted a steamy story with two attractive people(even though the men in period pieces are seldom as attractive as the women).

Emma has some nudity but none of it is done without a purpose and when there is nudity it isn’t sexualized, like when Emma lifts her dress to let her lower half heat up by the fire, or when Knightly tears of all of his constricting clothes in anger following a failed omission of love. The scenes that are the most memorable are the one’s where instead of sexuality being shown there is intimacy instead.

In the coming years I hope to see more women directors and crew to really bring their all to these movies as it is what Austen would have wanted.

Citations:

https://www.amherst.edu/system/files/media/1021/Laura%2520Mulvey,%2520Visual%2520Pleasure.pdf

https://www.uwlax.edu/globalassets/offices-services/urc/jur-online/pdf/2020/riebe.emily.cst2020.pdf

Tt0414387

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt9214832/

[britomart]

vickyyyyyy hiii top 5 lines of lyrics and top 5 movie directors!

oh omg hiii lauuu ermm i'm just going to do random ones that come to mind for lyrics-

and i'll bury my soul in a scrapbook with the photographs there and the moss and i'll yield to the flood of your beauty my cheap violin and my cross (leonard cohen, take this waltz) (essentially all of leonard cohen's lyrics tbh)

and the people bowed and prayed to the neon god they made and the sign flashed out its warning in the words that it was forming then the sign said, "the words on the prophets are written on the subway walls in tenement halls" and whispered in the sound of silence (paul simon, the sound of silence)

i remember that time you told me you said, "love is touching souls" surely you touched mine cause part of you pours out of me in these lines from time to time (joni mitchell, a case of you)

kiss me underneath the moon's side boob (alex turner, tranquility base hotel and casino)

woo-hoo (blur, song 2)

take those as you will<3 as for directors hmmmm i don't really know..... maybe john cassavetes, hirokazu kore-eda, elaine may, wong kar wai, autumn de wilde ? idk i've been trying to find new favourite directors but i still have to watch a lot more films in order to do so</3 honorary mentions go to more or less all the overlords of the filmbro canon (excluding tarantino)

[who-am-i-no-one]

Emma. (2020)

I watched this movie in late January. After multiple viewings and re-reading the book, I have a lot of thoughts about this adaptation.

It seems rather strange, given that Emma is part of my holy trinity of Austen novels, that I didn't watched the most recent adaptation earlier. I think it was mostly due to my initial impression that Anya Taylor-Joy's otherworldly looks didn't quite match what I had in mind for the titular character. I decided to give this version a try after watching Queen's Gambit. Not sure that Anya's looks will ever grow on me, but she did impress me as a young actress who seemed to have a maturity beyond her years.

Long story short: really wished I had seen this movie earlier! It is absurd and heartfelt at the same time, imo, the version that best imbues Austen's humor. It is now my favorite adaption, with the possible exception of Clueless, and I'm not quite sure how much of that is just nostalgia.

From the casting to the direction to the script to the costumes to the set to the soundtrack, I could tell the creative team really put a lot of love into this project. It's always a joy to watch something that's made with love and made well.

Direction

Autumn de Wilde's directing is quite good. I would never have thought this was her first feature. She certainly has a unique and colorful style, which is probably to be expected for such a famous photographer.

Funnily, while watching the movie I kept thinking it reminded me of early Hollywood romantic comedies like Bringing Up Baby (incidentally one of my favorites) or The Philadelphia Story, and then reading interviews and seeing that she had tried to bring in some of that style of humor made me feel rather validated. Also the servants' reactions were awesome!

Absolutely loved the fact that they decided to show that Knightley and Emma were in love with each other very early on in the story, with Knightley more aware of it. I've read some people complaining about the surprise of Emma's being in love being ruined. But come on, did anyone reading two chapters into the book think it wasn't going to be the two of them together in the end?

Loved how much of Knightley's point of view we got in this movie. This is one repressed pinning man. I can totally see this Knightley riding ventre a terre from London in the rain because he thought Emma was heartbroken.

The only gripe I had was the lack of Frank and Jane's subplot. As it seems they shot some scenes for that, I assume it was the director's discretion to take them out. I remember thinking while watching the movie that they must have expected the audience to be familiar with the story because some things just didn't really get explained or extrapolated on a lot. If you hadn't read the book it'd be 30 minutes or more into the movie before you put two and two together and figured out why Mr. Knightley is always at Hartfield.

Script

The script takes most of the dialogue directly from the book, which is awesome. I love Austen's writing because there is a certain musicality to it and retaining that in large part for the movie really made it better for me. The deftness with which Eleanor Catton moved dialogue from one scene in the book to a totally different one in the movie was quite brilliant. Everything flowed so well.

The scenes that differed from the book were also excellent - namely, I really loved the Jane/Knightley duet, the infamous nosebleed and first kiss scenes. 💖 I thought the screenwriter used those changes to quickly establish plot points and character arcs well.

Costume/Hair

Not a Recency expert so can't say much about the costumes and hair as far as period correctness but from reading other reviews it seemed like they were very true to the period. Obviously appreciated them taking the time to show the audience how men got dressed in that time (purely for research purposes obviously 😜).

Emma's dresses were all quite beautiful. I especially loved the black evening dress, the pink one with the roses and the proposal dress. Also loved the little pop of red shoes that went with the proposal dress. As someone who wore red shoes with her wedding gown I heartily approve.

Absolutely loved how Emma's curls unwound as her life unravels. Similarly think they must have done the same for Knightley to a lesser extent. His hair during the card playing scene at the Westons was quite terrible.

Set

I! Loved! Hartfield! It looked just like a doll house. Really most of the sets looked good enough to eat. So much pastel. Reminded me of French macarons.

I liked how everything in Donwell Abbey was shrouded in Holland covers. Makes a good point that Knightley barely lives there at all, that his home has been with the Woodhouses for quite a while now. Which, of course, makes his sacrifice at the end just a little bit less of a sacrifice?

Soundtrack

Isabella Waller-Bridge's music really meshed well with the tone of the entire film. The male and female opera singers, sometimes sounding as if they are bickering with each other and other times seeming to be in duet, was a brilliant touch. The folk music was a little jarring at first but really grew on me.

Johnny Flynn's end credits song "Queen Bee" is amazing. I love that we get Knightley's perspective at the end with a song written and sung by Knightley. It's a lovely coda to the movie. And now, if the next Austen hero doesn't write one for his SO I'm going to think him a very poor sort of lover.

Cast

Anya's Emma was really great. I'm glad they allowed Emma to be her bitchy self. Lol. I haven't watched the 1996 and 2009 versions in a while but I distinctly remember them making Emma too nice. I recall writing after watching the Garai version that Emma was actually mean and they should have let her be mean! If she's not a brat in the beginning, how will we see her change for the better later on? I love what a snob and how manipulative this Emma was and so assured of her place in her little society but still had the vulnerability of almost an imposter's syndrome which I feel most people can relate to.

Her chemistry with Johnny Flynn's Knightley was off the charts. Pretty much every scene they had together I half expected them to reenact the library scene from Atonement lol.

Mia Goth was a wonderful Harriet. She really captured Harriet's inexperience, naivete and diffidence. The orgasmic sounds she was making during the gypsies attack scene were awesome. Although, I could probably have forgone a few of Harriet's scenes for more Frank and Jane.

Not sure why they made Mia go brunette since the book specifically mentioned Harriet was fair? Perhaps having all three leads as blondes was just a bit too much. I'm also not sure if I liked Harriet's ending as I really don't think Emma, even in her most contrite mood, would invite further friendship from a tradesman's daughter and soon-to-be her husband's tenant farmer's wife. This seems a piece of modern day wishful thinking on the part of the creative team.

Bill Nighy was so good as Mr. Woodhouse. He made it so believable why everyone would do everything in their power to accommodate his whims. The gag with the screens was too funny. He was able to sketch out a lonely quirky old man who is afraid to lose those close to him in very limited screen time. Absolutely loved the scene where Emma was heaping blame on herself and he just sat with her in sympathetic silence.

Miranda Hart's Miss Bates was excellent as well. She has long been one of my favorite British comedic actresses but she can also do drama well. Her reaction to Emma's teasing on Box Hill and her forgiveness of Emma later brought me to tears.

Josh O'Connor's Mr. Elton was deliciously creepy. The carriage proposal scene was at once a little scary and hilarious. I actually liked the portrait scenes a little less because I found the acting there slightly affected and veering into 1995 Mr. Collins territory. But as Austen described Elton as having "a sort of parade in his speeches", this was much more forgivable. Really loved Mr. Elton's determination to eat cake during the Eltons' visit to Hartfield.

Tanya Reynolds was an excellent Mrs. Elton and in very little screen time was able to bring to life this meddlesome nouveau riche. Adored her little shimmy during the ball.

Amber Anderson's Jane really looked as if she were in a decline. Callum Turner did a good job as a slightly restless, mischievous and immature Frank Churchill. I did feel his looks were a bit too modern but that's just my personal view.

Given how many scenes they had I thought they used the time they had pretty well with furtive glances and sly smiles at each other to establish the relationship.

Connor Swindells was such a love sick puppy as Robert Martin. Did this role ever get cast in other adaptations? I don't seem to recall at all.

Special shoutout to Oliver Chris's John Knightley. Absolutely had me in stitches.

And last but never the least, Johnny Flynn's Mr. Knightley:

To preface, I will never not fall for Mr. Knightley in any version that I watch. And really, get yourself a good looking enough actor with good enough chemistry with Emma and good enough acting chops and you should have a fairly successful Knightley.

I judge all my Knightleys by the Box Hill scene. And up to that point in the movie, I really liked Johnny Flynn's Knightley. He was playful and sexy and jealous and slightly bitchy as well. The duet scene was lovely because I always appreciate a man who can play instruments and sing well. The sexiness and chemistry of the dance scene was off the charts. That's all well and good. And like I said before, given any well cast actor, I probably would have liked them in those scenes as well, just as I've liked Northam's and Miller's Knightleys.

But, the Box Hill scene absolutely blew me away. To make sure I was not just biased towards the last Knightley I saw on screen, I did go back and compare each version's Box Hill scene and I am, actually, even more blown away. Some of it is a credit to the directing and script, but a large part of it is Johnny Flynn's acting in that scene.

As far a script and directing, the set up to the fight scene was fantastic. Loved Anya's expression changes after she makes the joke. Loved Miranda Hart's Miss Bates as she realizes what Emma meant. The silence that followed. Knightley's shocked face and how sympathetic he was to Miss Bates. Can probably write a whole thing just about this scene alone.

I loved the fact that Knightley had an internal struggle as to whether or not to approach Emma and reproach her for her behavior. I know the book has him tell Emma about his struggle but that just doesn't work as well for me on screen.

During the scene you can just tell how frustrated and disappointed in her he is even though he tries to keep his voice low. But the way he reprimands her does not at all feel lecture-y and I feel like part of it is because it seems like he starts to lose control a little bit as well. His voice starts to crescendo as she stubbornly refuses to admit she was in the wrong and culminates in "badly done, indeed!" with actual fingerpointing. Yikes.

Then he losses steam and looked regretful, almost devastatingly so, at his own outburst and perhaps felt that he was losing her by giving this speech and looked as if he would have said something more - an apology or some words of comfort to soften the blow? - but didn't.

This remorse and the struggle at the beginning really bookended the scene for me.

Absolutely loved his Knightley, and, really, him as an actor after that.

The proposal scene as well was very good. His delivery was just really good. The way he said "If I loved you less then I might be able to talk about it more." with some regret and then closing his eyes as if he can't believe what he just said. Soooo good. Also, he cries very pretty, lol.

The delivery of the three "yes" during the kiss scene as Emma asked for confirmation that he really was ok with giving up his house to come live with them was also brilliant. It just kept getting softer and softer but he never breaks eye contact. Absolute chef's kiss. His closed eyed little smile of content after Emma kisses him just made me melt into a puddle.

Yup, overall I'd say I rather liked his interpretation of Mr. George Knightley. 😜

I did wish they hadn't giving him such sideburns but after watching some Emma interviews I can totally understand. If he didn't have the sideburns there'd be more complaints about how young this Knightley was. He's got such a baby face.

...I seemed to have written an entire essay on this movie...yeah, I just have a lot of feelings and thoughts about this version...

[scribbleseas]

The Indignant Pawn, Chapter VI: The Importance of Pluck

Description: You are Y/n Y/l/n- formerly known as Princess Helena, the runaway princess.

You're an assassin for hire who only agrees to find the worst of London's criminals at the business end of your knife; until a mysterious woman hires you to end the likes of Ciel Phantomhive, the King of the Underworld. You find yourself trading your weapons for your abandoned family crest in order to infiltrate his home as none other than Princess Marie-Louise, your twin sister. What's to happen when you find that the young Earl is more than a callous businessman?

OVERALL STORY WARNINGS: sexual assault, objectification, misogyny, death, detailed description of blood/gore, detailed description of murder, lying, impersonation, theft, weapons, detailed panic attacks and flashbacks, symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder.

Author’s Note: Hi! Thank you so much for enjoying this story so far! I can’t wait to take you down this wild road with this cast of characters. As always, if you have any questions or concerns about the story warnings, please don’t hesitate to contact me! Please note that the warnings are subject to change by each chapter.

-Dan

⇠ PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER ⇢

. . .

FEBRUARY 14TH, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

“Y/n!” Andrea’s calloused hands pulled you into a tight bear hug, causing you to stumble forward, uncoordinated by the sudden movement of the door and her springing towards you and Autumn. Reluctantly, you melted into the embrace from the sole reminder that this was the same woman that showed you the separation between your traumatic childhood and reclaiming this facade. Not to mention, a few phrases of conversational Spanish. 

“Buena noches, Andrea,” (Good evening, Andrea) you greeted halfheartedly, your foul mood having yet to completely subside from the front of your mind. Without Doña’s need to meddle, you never would have needed to leave the warmth of the guest quarters in the middle of the night in the first place. The mission was completely under your control- the objective remaining as crystal clear as it was on day one. Killing Lord Phantomhive was not nearly the challenge your subconscious was making it out to be.

“¿Dónde está Doña?” (Where is Doña?) You asked once Andrea released you and motioned towards the reins that you clutched in your hand. Asking for the location of a local stable would have been next on your course of action. However, she seemed to know exactly where to keep Autumn for the time being.

“Inside...still waiting for you. Diego will show you the way,” the woman gestured to the familiar man as he crossed his arms in the doorframe. The same playful smirk tugged at his lips, suggesting that he heard some kind of joke that he didn’t dare repeat. Andrea started off with Autumn in tow, the horse’s tail flicking back and forth lethargically.

“The dress hugs tight,” Diego commented patronizingly as he led you through the hall. You could tell by his comment that Diego was only trying to provoke your outrage, no matter how you tried to keep your face neutral. Of course, the dress fit your frame better- you were eating three meals a day alongside some form of an extravagant dessert. There was no shame in enjoying good food while it was available to you.

“You’re one to talk,” you glared at Diego’s back as he walked. His black trench coat was tied around his lean frame tightly, the bottom shifting with each step that he took. The outline of his gun holster was clearly fastened around his waist beneath the coat. There was nothing more ridiculous than the thought of a man like Diego having the morality to murder someone. But you supposed if that was the case, he wouldn’t affiliate with women such as Doña-  or yourself.

“Doña, she arrives,” Diego stopped short before a small living room. The vicinity was warmed by a tame fire in the fireplace, the orange hue painting the rest of the room. As the rest of the rooms were, this room was notably empty- save for two sofas and a single table between them. 

The lady herself, Doña, occupied the middle of one of the couches, nursing a rum-spiked coffee, her thin fingers wrapped around the thin stem of the glass. The scent of the over-proofed rum drifted about the room, causing you to cringe. You’d never understand why Spaniards preferred their coffee with hard liquor mixed in- according to Andrea, the combination was called a carajillo.

“Lovely,” Doña’s painted lips spread into a satisfied grin, the corners of her mouth pulling upwards. “Sit Y/n. Sit,” she said, patting the cushion next to her with a free hand. You made it a point to sit in the middle of the empty sofa across from her, your hands smoothing over your petticoats as you regarded the light ecru Doña wore. The majority of the top layer was made of tulle so to create a softer ambiance to oppose her burgundy lip color- such as a shade that was forbidden for royalty, or any self-respecting woman.

“I’ll go help Carmen with the...bebé,” Diego cringed as the sound of Doña’s wailing child sounded from the floor above. “Excuse me.”

“I haven’t all night, Doña,” you snapped impetuously as you watched the woman’s face, contemplative as she listened to her daughter sob. You heard Carmen seethe ‘¿Por qué no podemos ponerla en adopción ya?’ and in response, Diego only laughed. Andrea was still putting your horse away, but the sobbing would likely stop the second she entered the baby’s line of sight.

“If only you had the same sense of urgency in completing the mission I assigned a month ago,” Doña took a long drink of her carajillo, her face twisting at the taste. “Did you not guarantee me seven days at most?”

In a fit of haughtiness, you had made a claim that went something along those lines. After all, the longest you spent on one mission before this one, was waiting for the servant rotation of Agatha Tolton to switch in your favor. The woman was rarely alone and you preferred to only kill your targets during a mission.

“There are unforeseen obstacles inside the estate,” you lied. In truth, you spent plenty of time alone with the Earl- three meals a day and occasionally, time in the foyer at night. Hiding your dagger in the folds of a nightgown and stabbing him wasn’t out of your capabilities and yet, you were postponing it for the comfortable treatment- even if it was all stolen from Marie’s identity.

“Unforeseen obstacles in the estate,” Doña repeated, unfazed by your lie. “What sort of obstacles could possibly be new to you?”

“There’s something...uncertain about his butler,” this concern nagged the back of your mind from the moment you got there. From the second he greeted you in flawless German and subtly as each day passed on. Despite being the head butler of the estate, he was too capable at some points- always being prepared when you and the Earl requested tea or hot chocolate in the dead of night, answering questions that you purposely keep from saying. His speed.

“Sebastian Michaelis?” Doña’s frown deepened, making her look at least five years older. Creases from constant scowling marred the corners of her lips and between her symmetrical eyebrows. “We discussed his role in Phantomhive’s life. You said-” her accent butchered the Earl’s name, turning the i into an e, which resulted in his name sounding more like Phantomheave, rather than Phantomhive. 

“Doña, I’m aware of what I told you,” you hissed as she brought the flute of spiked coffee to her lips and drank again. “I said that he wouldn’t present an obstacle to my objective.”

“And yet?” She asked, goading your temper, tempting you to take the drink out of her hands and dump the rest of its steaming contents down her nightgown. Your fingers curled into fists, as you compelled yourself to stay seated on the couch. Your nails dug into the flesh of your palm, the sensation tolerable, but something to focus on, nevertheless.

“And yet, I’m reassessing my strategy because of him,” you lied. Sebastian made for a decent excuse, above all of his other uses.

A brief moment of silence passed before she asked, “must I eliminate him for you, Y/n? It would be a shame to need to aid my hired killer-...almost as distressing as wasting a handsome face such as his, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Looks have nothing to do with anything, Doña,” you ignored the turn of her curt grin while she finished off the rest of her carajillo with a sigh. She put the empty glass on the low table that sat in between the two of you, the bottom landing with a soft clink. “If I have to kill Sebastian Michaelis, I will do it myself.”

“We can share tactics with you,” Diego offered from the side of the room, where he and Carmen were standing. The baby had stopped wailing several minutes ago, moments after Andrea returned from putting your horse away. “You seem as if you need many,” he teased, sharing a patronizing laugh with Doña. At your glare, his face sobered, although a smile seemed to taunt the corners of his lips.

“Your tactics,” you scoffed, “what skill does it take to pull the trigger of a gun?” You could recall the weight of the handgun you had used at fourteen, successfully killing two men within minutes of each other. How could Diego pride his reliance on a weapon? 

“You bitch! You’ll, you’re going to bloody p--” James screamed, glowering at you as he struggled to get his fumbling hands in place. But he was too slow. He fell to the ground, blood beginning to blossom near his lower ribs.

“You’re a clever one, Princess,” Diego chuckled, showing the palms of his hands in defeat. “I might ask you for tactics for how you look so detached,” he quipped, shaking his shoulders to create an animated shiver. 

“Princesa de Hielo,” Carmen mumbled, which caused Doña to laugh again, the effects of rum beginning to seep into her cold personage. Her deep brown eyes settled back on you, hardening as you met her gaze. Eye contact was quite a fragile social concept- you weren’t confident with Spanish customs, but in Germany, it expressed attentiveness but in excess it expressed pride. 

“The two of you...go retrieve Y/n’s horse. She’s souring the atmosphere,” Doña shifted on the couch to turn her back to you, and the liquid in her glass flute hit the side and slid down again. There wasn’t much to the drink when you sat down in the first place and now, the glass was nearly empty.

Doña waited for Diego and Carmen to leave before she lazily got to her feet and stood before you, her expression sobering as if she hadn’t finished off her drink. With her proximity, you could smell the faint tinge of rum from her lips.  “And as for you- I want him dead. I don’t care how it’s done- simply finish him off and you’ll have your compensation. Do you understand?”

Her pupils were nearly swallowed whole by her umber irises, the threat in them ever-present.

. . .

FEBRUARY 15TH, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

Within the first few minutes of riding back to the Phantomhive Estate, snow began to fall, dropping from the clouds in fat flurries that rolled down your neck and made it nearly impossible to see fifteen feet in front of you. The wind whistled in your ears as you encouraged Autumn to continue her steady gait, even as the snow began to stick on the cobblestone streets of the city.

The distance from the manor to the heart of the city was sizable without the beginnings of a blizzard, but the horse’s hesitation, as well as your own, had severely delayed your arrival time. In fact, by the time you were scaling the wall of the manor, the sun was beginning to ascend the horizon, starting the day as the snow continued to pile and stick. Your fingers were numb since you had to remove your thick gloves to properly cling to the stones that jutted out of the main house’s foundation, leaving them vulnerable to the sharp surfaces and cold air. You were lucky that your quarters were located on the second floor, but that wouldn’t matter if Mey-Rin found the room empty upon entering to wake you.

The moment you reached the window beside your bed, you swung one leg over the still and then the other, reveling in the fact that you had, in fact, managed to return before Mey-Rin entered to wake you. Your trembling hands made messy work of tearing off the sides of the gown that were pinned to the stays on your coset, letting each piece of your riding habit fall carelessly to the floorboards until you were left standing in your corset that sat over your white shift- the base of any dress. Unlacing it was never this challenging when you sported middle-class clothing articles, leaving you to tug at the strands that kept the constrictive item together as several pairs of footsteps began to grow closer to the closed door of your quarters.

Your front teeth sunk into the inside of your lip as your descent into panic worsened with each passing second, fruitlessly attempting to untie the knots that you had secured yourself. Clearly, you had made some kind of mistake in re-dressing yourself prior to leaving for Doña’s new home.

This was exactly what you had feared.

“And you absolutely certain she isn’t here, Mey-Rin?” Sebastian’s posh voice questioned, moments before the door swung open, revealing you half-dressed and positioned in front of your open window. Mey-Rin and Sebastian were behind the Earl, the maid’s eyes glassy as if she was about to cry, and the butler’s face completely impassive, like a statue’s. Instantaneously, the Earl’s gaze fled to the ceiling, the floor, anywhere as long as it wasn’t on you.

Your hands fell to your sides and in the most delayed reaction, you exclaimed, “raus!” (out!). You turned your back to the doorway and hugged yourself.

“I believe she is far from missing, thank you,” the Earl’s voice was steadier than you would have anticipated, “my apologies, Your Highness,” the sound of rapid steps that implied his and Sebastian’s departure down the corridor followed as you released a weak exhale. 

“I came to wake you and you were missin’, yes you were,” Mey-Rin said . “I assumed the worst, I’m sorry Your Highness.” she asked for permission to undo the thick knots that you couldn’t undo. You nodded once, facing her as she nimbly undid each one. “The young master is going to want to know where you were off to...he was awfully concerned havin’ just returned from Lady Elizabeth’s…” if Mey-Rin wasn’t paid to fuss over you, you might’ve pitied her.

“I love the snow. I wanted to be outside on my own- I thought I could return before you notice I went out,” you explained, the lie was on the tip of your tongue from the moment you fell behind your plan. Mey-Rin breathed a sigh of relief and began to properly lace the corset and fasten a new stomacher, this one was a deep shade of red, resembling claret with its notes of magenta. The rest of the gown matched the shade.

“The snow is much prettier here in the countryside," Mey-Rin agreed as she continue to prepare you for the rest of the day; twisting your hair into another tight bun, brushes of powder over your face and shoulders and gentle hands of rogue on the apples of your cheeks. Within several strokes of a brush, your familiar blemishes disappeared- like a wave of a magic wand. 

Each step from your room to the main dining room maximized the nostalgic pit in your stomach. You sat to the Earl’s side at the breakfast table, as per usual. He was uncharacteristically quiet, leisurely lifting his steaming cup of tea to his lips and taking a long drink, his eye having yet to properly leave you. Lord Phantomhive did well to remind you of Governess Lydia and the countless instances you were scolded by the woman after an unbearably long silence. 

As a grown woman, you were too old for this. 

“Lord Phantomhive-” you started, only to be swiftly interrupted by the loud clunk that punctuated when he aggressively returned his teacup to its saucer on the table. Droplets of tea ran down the porcelain and pooled on the small dish. What waste.

His voice was fatally calm and as per usual, each word was punctuated to the syllable. “I am entrusted with your life, Your Highness. I thought it was clear that you aren’t to leave this estate unaccompanied without myself or Sebastian,” he said, “My duty to Her Majesty is to protect you to the extent of my capabilities and beyond that.”

“I was within the perimeter of this estate!” You countered, your hand pausing as you were about to spread a healthy bit of margarine over the head of a muffin,  that Sebastian had decapitated for you. Instead, the continent fell from the smooth blade of your knife in a heap before you began to spread it. “If that is your grievance with this morning, then your contention is certainly misplaced. It should not be a crime for me to wish to be outside. Alone.”

“Your Highness, there is a death threat over your head. Your going outside unaccompanied is a point of contention for me, yes,” the Earl said, as if this information should have been obvious. Granted it made logical sense- defenseless royalty needed to remain within lines of defense, however, you posed as a needy princess who was unacquainted with the concept of no. “If you are so fascinated with snow, a commonality in your home country, then you might wait to ask-”

“Thank you for your concern,” you intervened icily, aware that you had waged a losing battle from the moment you protested. “Keep in mind that it’s quite easy for the walls of this mansion to grow dull, My Lord.” 

. . .

FEBRUARY 17TH, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

The world outside of the windows was blank- completely grey and white. For the third day in a row, you were trapped indoors, hiding from the dense blizzard and idly roaming the layout of the estate. Every single room was familiar to you now- studied not once, but multiple times, making it simple for you to find the source of the rich violin that reverberated throughout the second floor of the mansion. Each step you grew closer to the frantic melody, vaguely aware of how clumsily you moved from the haste of your curiosity. The dramatic violin picked up, growing louder, steadier and more urgent the closer you came. The violin belonged to a special place within your battered heart- the noise caused goosebumps to erupt up and down your arms, despite the plentiful warmth that generated throughout the manor.

From under the closed door, a metronome prudently clicked away and your fingers immediately tapped against your petticoat in response, corresponding with it as your eyes stared into the painted wood of the door in front of you, your dominant hand resting on the gold knob.

One and a two, one and a two, one and a two...

The piece was executed flawlessly- until a new passage began and gradually fell behind the tics of the metronome and your fingers as they continuously tapped your skirt. It wasn’t long until the instrument abruptly paused, leaving the mansion to silence once again. 

“Your technique leaves much to be desired, which is why you fell behind. Perhaps a proper audience might motivate you, sir,” Sebastian suggested, his voice muffled by the door. You were in the process of turning back to the library to continue the book you had abandoned to stretch your legs, but instead, Sebastian opened the door behind you. 

“Your Highness, it would be a privilege for my master to entertain you with his most recent selection: J.S Bach’s Partita for Violin Solo,” Sebastian explained, forgoing his typical use of German, “it would be terribly rude to allow you to listen from outside as he would otherwise have it,” he said pointedly, showing you to a plush loveseat as the Earl stood, his violin and bow poised in hand while he glowered at the score on the music stand in front of him.

“I appreciate it,” you took the offered seat and watched as Sebastian started the metronome once again and pushed up his glasses, which seemed special to his role as a tutor. 

“Again, from the twelfth line. This time, perhaps watch your spiccato and left hand articulation- the aim is to hear every note unequivocally, yet remain up to speed,” Sebastian said, but you suspected that the Earl had properly tuned him out in order to prepare to lift the violin and prepare to play again. 

Your gaze was drawn to his fingers as they danced along the neck of the violin, pressing and moving every second with the tact of a seasoned player. In the light, the gems on his rings winked as the light’s perspective on them changed as he played. It was mesmerizing in a sense, watching the Earl focus on one task entirely. His eyebrows furrowed thoughtfully, drawing closer together during more difficult areas of the piece. You watched his expression remain the same during each time he ran through the section that Sebastian requested as he slowly worked through the tense parts until the butler excused himself in order to begin the preparations for supper. 

“Have you played for long?” you asked, watching as he loosened the string of his bow and began to wipe it with a small, neatly folded cloth. 

“About four years now, I believe,” he cautiously laid the bow and the violin to rest in their case. “Do you play?”

“No,” you said, without thinking. “I am much more partial to the harp- my sister played the violin,” you attempted to maintain the neutrality in your face upon recognizing your mistake. Marie was a mediocre violinist, which meant that the proper answer would have been ‘yes, but not quite so well’. Instead, you implied that Marie was a harpist and the missing, presumably dead princess played the violin. It was a fact that the royal family did not understand until you had left and there was no one playing the harp in the castle. However, it was not common knowledge that either princess had proficiency with the harp in the first place.

He wouldn’t catch such an inconspicuous mistake. 

“The harp,” Lord Phantomhive mused, as if the thought amused him. “Fitting, I reckon.”

Frankly, you couldn’t remember the last time you touched the delicate strings of a harp, the sensation of their vibrations against your fingertips. As a girl, it was the only outlet that you could express yourself without breaking any rules- for the most part, at least. 

. . .

The thick blankets of puffy snow on the ground made it so even the postage arrived late that evening, since roads leading to the countryside out of the city had yet to be cleared. Thus, the Earl flipped through the Westminster Review and you pretended to consciously read the English Woman’s Journal post-supper, between taking turns in a slow-moving chess game, rather than reading through the news at the breakfast table. 

You absentmindedly fiddled with the corner of the thin printed paper as you instead watched the Earl regard the ornate chess set that sat in the middle of you, his side black and yours white. For the second time that day, you were met with his face of complete thought and focus- even if the game was already won on his part. 

Frankly, the Earl was an aggressive player and you weren’t accustomed to someone who played sharply and meticulously at once. Not to mention, the last time you played chess, you were about twelve and huddled up in layers of clothing inside, attempting to stay warm in the conman’s measly shack as the two of you hid from the winter that nipped at your noses. “Checkmate,” he sounded as if he was much too accustomed to saying it. The smug tilt of his head merely exaggerated the false humility of his.

Even though you expected him to make that exact move, your shoulders slumped anyway as you huffed impertinently. You were never the best at losing graceful; not in the castle, not with the conman and certainly not by yourself. Especially coming off of your second loss that night. 

“This evening was the first as well as the last time I’m playing chess as your opponent, Lord Phantomhive,” you rolled your eyes, tentatively scoffing as you began to reset the board, abandoning the newspaper entirely.

“Competitive, Your Highness?”

“Everyone is,” you responded, “the nature of humanity is to win; be it a war, or a simple game of chess. I despise any loss and I’m certain you feel the same, My Lord,” you ignored the piqued quirk of his eyebrow to properly finish setting the pieces to their starting square. 

“I do fit the requisites by simply being anyone- or a human, at the very least,” Lord Phantomhive seemed almost too amused by the statement- and the entendre went above your head. What was the alternative to not being human? You weren’t one to believe in anything you could not see and if there in fact, gods and demons among civilization, surely you might have attracted one, given the life you led. However, you didn’t entertain the thought beyond a stoic chuckle. “Why don’t we begin the next round, best out of five?” he suggested.

“You’re only after the satisfaction of winning five matches against me. Two ought to be plenty,” you accused, not that you blamed him. If your strategic mind could translate to ornate pieces on a board as it did with your profession, then you would happily play the Earl time and time again simply to win.

“Fine, then. Why don’t you choose the next game?” Lord Phantomhive gestured lazily towards the armoire that stood against the wall. Sebastian opened it earlier to retrieve the chess pieces from their velvet box and among the shelves were several boxes of games- several produced by the Funtom Company. Picking one of those would be nearly an instantaneous loss, considering he had a hand in creating it. You decided to settle on a classic and gingerly pulled the box that was labeled draughts. 

Draughts was an easier game in comparison to chess- while each had clear winning objectives, draughts was a straightforward game- capture the opponent’s pieces with your own. Each had equal strength until later in the game, whereas chess was a complex strategic war from the start. Playing draughts, there was much less room for error as games ought to be. Besides, you took pleasure in watching the Earl struggling to move pieces with equal power across the board while you played checkers countless of times against the conman and his friends, on the occasion.

Before you could finish the rest of your newspaper (the poetry bit was rather strenuous to get through), one of your double-stacked pieces- a king- double jumped his, decisively ending the first game of checkers of the night. “I thought you would show more of a fight, My Lord,” you scooped a victorious hunk out of the cheesecake that Sebastian delivered minutes prior. The rich Quark cheese was sweet, marrying the tart raspberry compote that was drizzled on top, syrupy in nature as it pooled around the remnants of the cake slice.

“Chess and draughts require different sets of strategies,” Lord Phantomhive responded, feigning nonchalance so as to take the loss civilly but nevertheless, he wore his frustration on his tightly pursed lips and a lack of eye contact which he normally provided in excess. “I’d bet I could win the next round now that I’m...acquainted with your style of playing.”

“Fine,” you aquised, “one last round for tonight because I simply must see you defeated again.”

. . .

FEBRUARY 24TH, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

If this pedal harp had eyes, it would have glared at you from across the music room. It was taller than you- glorious and intimidating, the dozens of strings perhaps daring you to pluck at them. The column was made of solid gold and with Lord Phantomhive’s fortune, you could assume that it was as genuine as the rest of the novelties that lived among the estate. This harp was perhaps the most intricate one you had ever laid eyes on, besting the rich mahogany instrument that you learned on as a girl. It was mandatory for the princesses of Schleswig-Holstein to practice womanly, demere hobbies and paradoxically, Marie was by far the worst violinist in Europe in spite of displaying every other desirable trait a young princess could wish to emote. 

You were the most gifted musician out of the four heirs to the German throne, which was a fact that Governess Lydia preferred to keep to herself. Nobody needed to know that it was Glücksburg Castle’s Devil Child who was producing fiercely beautiful Mozart concertos from the confinement of her quarters after a good repremandment for misbehavior. 

“My master requested this pedal harp to be handcrafted for you by George W. Lyon and Patrick Healy, the founders of Lyon and Healy- an overseas company that qualifies as the cornerstone of quality instrument creation. He corresponded closely with the two men over the past week,” you could hear Sebastian’s overly saccharine simper, even as you closely inspected the floral engravings that decorated the harp’s crown, straight down to its foot. The golden column must have been polished recently but even so, it couldn’t completely outshine the work that was put into styling the harp’s wooden soundboard and the neck, which was its signature concave top. “I do hope it's to your satisfaction- the Lord Phantomhive was eager to present it himself, however-”

“He is occupied with hosting his emergent business meeting,” you interrupted haphazardly. The Earl wouldn’t care about the Funtom Company once he was dead and besides, you couldn’t seem to find out why water damage within a single cacao refinery was such a major issue. There were dozens of cacao refineries that Lord Phantomhive funded- nosing through his official documents had told you so. “Well...think nothing of it, I suppose.”

“Of course,” Sebastian bowed, his hand over his heart, “your leniency is much appreciated, Your Highness.”

“I would appreciate being left to my own about now,” your fingertips brushed over a red string, which indicated that it was a C. On the harp, the strings were colored, indicating different notes and as if in a trance, you were tempted to play more of them as Sebastian left the room. 

The blue strings were F strings, A string was the string in the middle of the groups of three, if your memory served you well. It had been about a decade since you last touched one with the intent to sit down and play. You doubted you could, the longer you stared at the abundance of strings and yet, you claimed the upholstered chair behind it anyhow, sitting down. You cautiously pulled the harp back towards you until you found its balance point and allowed it to rest gently against your chest- practically weightless.  

Your the rest of your body seemed to recognize this more than your mind as you subconsciously repositioned the front of the harp to angle it. You could hear Lydia’s seething tone telling you to keep your arms “Halten Sie Ihre Arme in einem Winkel von 45 Grad zur Senkrechten!” (Keep your arms 45 degrees from the vertical!) properly from your body, your wrists curving gently towards the strings. 

Playing the harp was your escape as a child and there you were, once again in need of an escape. Being in a strenuous position with no clear course of action...maybe you hadn’t grown nearly as much as you thought you had.

Or at all.

The back of your neck provided an affirmative stab, causing you to bite your bottom lip, paying the chapped skin over it no mind. Ignoring the reality of the situation, did you well- it chased away nightmares, the interrupting thoughts and ironically, you were sitting before an instrument that used to help you do just that. Except, all it was doing for you then was stir thoughts and memories that could have used to remain secluded for at least one more day. 

“Mozart himself would have treasured your talent, dear girl,” Ida, one of the many maids that were assigned to prepare your sister for important events said. She was tying the back of Marie’s dress from the back, the satin laces a deep abrugene to match the rest of the garment. For young girls, clothing was quite simple- pinafores, dresses, sensible flats or boots. You weren’t introduced to the horrors of training crinolines and corsets until it was the year you went missing and stayed that way. 

“It was nothing, Ida,” Marie-Louise yawned, extending her hand out to another maid, Lotte for her to slide a lace glove onto it, pulling it up to reach her forearm. The team of three maids worked around her like bees in a hive, hovering and flitting about, making useless conversation to please a girl who was nowhere near half of their age. “Music comes easy to me.”

No, it didn’t. The extent of Marie’s musical ability was to pick up a violin and brandish the bow, only to force the poor instrument to squeal about a few noises before she gave up. Marie liked everything to come easy to her- she liked to be a natural talent, a prodigy with anything she attempted. 

Music came easily to you, but within the walls of Glücksburg Castle, all you knew how to accomplish was wreak havoc and delay plans. It didn’t make sense for music to come easily to you and so, no one believed you, no matter what you said or how you said it. 

“They ought to organize a recital for you, Your Highness. Her Majesty would adore hearing you play,” Lotte suggested with a smile that seemed forced- like clothespins were pinching the corners of her lips and cheeks in place.

“Why do that when Mr. Brahms and Mr. Strauss performed for us already?” You couldn’t help but interject, their words irking you as you stood on the other side of the large quarters- in front of your own separate vanity and armoire. Two other maids, Emery and Katharina were assigned to you were also whisking around you like overeager bees, but they didn’t bother to coddle your self esteem. You appreciated that they did their job and silently at that. Nothing could convince you to forget the disappointment that furrowed their faces when they learned that they would be tended to you instead of your mother or your sister. They were treated with stiff contempt from the minute they introduced themselves in lieu of it. “They’re musical geniuses and you’re a princess.”

A lying princess, at that. 

You were asked to remain looking forward while Emery caked your face and neck in thick powder and rouge and Katharina tied a chain of pearls around it. It was the exact ensemble that your sister’s team was assembling for her, except Ida and Lotte were much less time-efficient. The point was, Marie-Louise was free to face and glare at the side of your head, her seven-year-old mind trying to formulate a witty, yet tactful response. 

“You’re a princess as well, Helena,” Marie-Louise hissed, “but you just can’t ever be normal and act like one.” It always had to come down to that, didn’t it.

“Just when did Governess Lydia teach us to lie in Etiquette Class?” You turned to your sister, which was admittedly, the equivalent of staring at a scowling mirage of yourself, who seemed to be on the verge of shedding frustrated tears. Satisfaction bloomed in your chest. “I must have properly missed such a lesson, considering everybody seems to abide by it.”

“Please, that is quite enough, miss. Supper is nearing and we wouldn’t want to present you both late. Poor form is unbecoming,” Ida, the most experienced maid only scolded you in the process of intervening. That was to be expected. 

You didn’t respond and simply allowed Emery to part and braid your hair into a tight bun as Katharina secured your boots in tense silence. Most of your life up to that point was in tense, furthering silence anyway and yet, the royal family had the audacity to be surprised when you fled.

Supper was always the same. Your older brothers, Albert and Christian sat prudently on one side of the table, you and Marie-Louise were across from them and your mother was absent, visiting the Hampton Court Palace to see the Royal School of Needlework to its opening, since she was its first president. While she was one of the most active people in the royal family in charity work, her duty as a mother ended the moment she pushed the twins out of her womb. 

“Helena,” Christian said, acting as if he had lived through the many experiences of a king in only sixteen years. “Your Royal Guard came looking for you in the cricket field this morning- again. Where were you off to today?”

“I was with Hanna,” you lied, puncturing the rough exterior of the sausage on your plate with the tip of your knife before properly slicing it. In truth, you hid yourself in the stables because the animals were better company that anyone on castle grounds. “We were-”

“When did Governess Lydia teach us to lie in Etiquette Class?” Marie-Louise mimicked your words from prior, purposely making a mockery of your voice as she scrunched her nose. “Thora went out to sit with the pigs and the filth, Christle,” she explained employing the frankly bothersome, nicknames that your grandmother started. 

Christian ignored her and instead gave your father a long look, trying to get him to instead chastise you but to no avail. His Majesty was much too occupied with attempting to stab a piece of sausage whilst reading a letter. Kingly duties- and this was what your older brothers wished to embody. 

“It’s getting cold. If you’re so compelled to ignore your duties, may as well do it safely,” Christian mumbed gruffly, causing Albert to snicker in turn. Albert had the right of it as you fought a grin, setting your utensils down to signify that you were finished with your meal- the tips of your fork and knife met on an angle at the top of your plate, similar to a triangle.

“Very well, Christle,” you stood up from your chair, breaking the code of the highest ranking individual needing to finish his meal before anyone else left the dining table. In which case, that would be your father who was still satisfying himself with a serving of knödeln- potato dumplings. He mouthed each word that he read because it was likely written in French or English. “I ought to go to amuse myself, then.”

You showed yourself back to your quarters, Ida’s pleas for you to return to the meal and properly wait for His Majesty to end it. You hesitated in front of the closed door, the impertinent anger from your sister’s mere existence returned in seconds, causing you to impulsively go to the games room, where the harp was kept, and do exactly as you were forbidden to. 

You were forbidden from playing while Marie-Louise was occupied elsewhere- a rule that Lydia had threatened you over. But the moment that servants understood that it was your mastery that filled the castle corridors, they would detest it. Marie-Louise could live with being a little less affable in their eyes and even if she could not…

Some deserved not to. 

You opened your eyes, unconscious to when they had closed. Your fingers froze, the skin on them raw and burning familiarly, your wrists protesting the angle you held them at. Your hands trembled having expertly recalled the daringly simple melody of Pachelbel’s Canon in D Major, but before you could try to recall some piece by Liszt (the name was lost to you), Mey-Rin entered which was likely for the better. You were prepared to sit on that chair until your fingers bled, in spite of what it made you recall. 

“Lunch is about ready,” Mey-Rin’s eyes were red and bleary, but you made no effort to question it, thankful that she refrained from commenting on your playing. “Are you feelin’ alright ma’am? You’ve gone a bit red.”

“Yes, thank you. I might’ve overexerted myself,” you suggested, which was true. Your head pounded the moment you tried to stand. 

“Why don’t I bring it all up to your room,” she offered, “you just rest.” She briefly looked down at her boots, presumably checking the laces because tripping was quite a common occurrence for her. How the fragile antiques that Lord Phantomhive collected remained whole was beyond you when the only maid was a clumsy and slightly gullible...täuschen, or half-wit, as the conman might’ve said. But in this case, she had a point. Nothing sounded more appealing than having lunch alone in your room- without his (snarky) Lordship.

. . .

There were no time constraints at the estate- absolutely none that told you when you could play or when you couldn’t. 

This was exactly how you found yourself before the harp once after your nightly routine concluded. You were pulling the harp back to lean on your shoulder like a woman possessed, hungry for control of some kind. Whether it be dragging the blade of a knife across your victim’s throat or more realistically, pulling the strings of a brilliant instrument that must have cost half of a fortune to commission. Besides, if you killed Lord Phantomhive, you would have to leave before having at least a few more chances to make the beautiful instrument sing.

The hour called for something demure, rather than you experimenting with what your muscle memory could or could not conjure. You immediately began with Pachelbel’s Canon in D Major once again, willing your gaze to remain on your hands, actively fighting off any intersecting train of thought while you played. You focused on every flick of your wrists, the shift of your slipper on the pedals all while your hands knew exactly where they needed to be and when. 

At least they did before the shrill vibrato of a violin interjected the alto hum made by your harp. It came from the next room over, the Earl’s office, no less clearer than it would have been from a few feet in front of you. The violin took the melody that you willingly surrendered for the sake of keeping the piece uncluttered and subtle, as it was intended to be. 

This was how Lydia wanted an accompaniment between you and Marie to play out- you vaguely recalled the sheet music that she painfully attempted to teach her. Clearly, your counterpart was never able to grasp the music well enough and the accompaniment never took place- even after you embarrassed her that night. After your father dismissed your siblings, she came to the music room and had an... entirely becoming temper tantrum in your face- such a display would have ended with you being locked in a closet for several hours. Ida simply escorted her back to the quarters you shared and made her a glass of chamomile tea to calm her down.

As the piece came to a mutual decrescendo, it slowly faded away, ending with a soft glissando. It was unlike Lord Phantomhive to give you the last word without so much as the irked look or in this case, an irked trill.

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