#hugo is also there... kind of | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fluentisonus · 7 months ago

Text

still chewing this one over so hopefully this makes sense but one very minor running thing I feel like we get w jean valjean is that without disliking women or even believing that they're in any way unequal to him he. hm. for the most part doesn't have much normal contact with adult women after his sister (and presumably none for the 19 years he was in prison) which means that. not that he doesn't understand women so much as i feel like idk. he makes the mistake of unconsciously assuming men-are-from-mars-women-are-from-venus style that he doesn't understand them (being aware of that lack of contact & under the impression women are fairly different to men), and because he's a guy who wants to understand things & is largely self taught (often from books) especially wrt social niceties, he ends up being very credulous, in that presumed lack of understanding, of commonly held beliefs & traditional, societally reinforced ideas of gender rolls & gender characteristics, and this sometimes ends up ultimately hurting women around him despite his genuine good intentions

like obviously firstly in montreuil-sur-mer where he wants the female workers to have "pure morals" and gives them a separate workroom to the men to "remain discreet" which I think he genuinely intended as a means of making it a good work environment for the workers -- women can have privacy & focus on work & nothing uncomfortable or untoward is being brought into the workplace etc -- but as we know this backfired horrendously because it essentially resulted in fantine being fired for having a child out of wedlock & everything she went through after. and given his reaction he doesn't seem to have ever considered this a potential effect of his rules -- like he doesn't seem to have understood how those sorts of rules end up ultimately punish the women involved more than anything

and the other main instance of course is with cosette and his assumption that essentially a woman has a father, & then she has a husband & having a husband no longer needs a father (this is strengthened a lot by his own feeling of his own taintedness -- it's not the main thing responsible for what happened by any means. but it's a part of it) & this assumption is incredibly hard on her!!! she obviously doesn't see it that way at all! but it never seems like it occurs to him not to think of it in that framework bc essentially society in general sees it that way

idk I guess what I find interesting abt this is that it's a big blind spot in a guy who's otherwise extremely willing to question social biases & generally likes to take people all on a level as just another sort of person like himself. again I think in his general behavior towards women interpersonally there's nothing bad & in fact there's a lot of genuine respect there & probably willingness to learn even (in fantine 's case), but it's like he just never worked out that these ideas about gender are about as true & helpful as ideas about class or criminality etc etc

#idk does that make sense. I'm trying to work out how to phrase it #some of this is also of course just hugo's own approach to women & gender roles which is sometimes uh. 😑#thoughts #les mis #i also kind of feel like his not being attracted to women makes him conscious of this sort of a remove he's at from normal relationships to #women socially speaking which maybe makes this worse <- not that that is a Real distance or cause for misunderstanding so much as #his perception of it makes him more uncertain of it. i guess. if that makes sense

91 notes · View notes

dulcewrites · 2 years ago

Text

Give A Little Help

This is the first installment of work in fmo k&q universe. Mainly Cassandra and Aemond as they navigate being king and queen. What that means for their relationship (trying for a spare), and their kids. If there is anything in specific y’all want me to write let me know. I do want to tweak I see the dance going in this universe, but I’ll have to think about certain outcomes. I also do want certain people still alive… idk who yet tho. If y’all have suggestions let me know.

Also I was inspired by this song while writing this.

When she was younger, Cassandra’s parents would make her play a game. At least, young her rationalized it as a game. She would come to their room, and they would inspect her dress. She always thought it was them making sure they got their coins worth. That the expensive myrish gowns were exactly how Cassandra wanted them.

But then the dress inspections concluded with the stick. The stick they would make her wear under her dress for posture. The first couple of times she cried at the way the wood dug into her back, but then it became a dull ache. A welcome jolt of pain.

Even when the stick was taken away, the rigidness of her spine stayed.

It was no longer a game the moment her parents shipped her off the court. It sure stopped being one the moment she wrote home about how happy she was about how kind Princess Helaena had been to her.

Lamb, I hope you are interacting with the princes as well. That is of the upmost importance.

It was never game. At least not one she ever wanted to play.

Her parents are gone, but the stiffness instilled lives on. Everyone else is gone, and the game plays on. It live out all around her.

“There is another dispute in the Stepstones.”

There are sighs across table in the council chamber. Cassandra’s eyes stay placed on the small ball in front of her. Fingers rolling it around softly.

“I suppose that we send men of our own to set up fortifiers in the stead,” Hugo pipes up.

Cassandra can’t help the mirth filled scoff that leaves her lips. She tries to play nice with her husband’s hand but it is to no veil. There is something she just does not like about him, and she is sure the feelings are mutual.

“Is something wrong, my queen?”

Yes, you.

She turns her attention to Aemond instead.

“Is involving ourselves in this truly what is needed in this situation? Putting lives at risk, and spending our coffers for what? Let them tear each other apart. The Triarchy always manages to fight then find each other again.”

“This affects trade in the Narrow Sea, and it also involves principality in Dorne,” Hugo rebuts to Aemond as well.

“Then we find other routes trade from till this is finished. Unless you have any idea where we would get the resources to involve ourselves. And Dorne? Really? Is this the way to usher them into the realm since everyone is so deseperate to do so; being on the opposite sides of a war… again,” she frowns at Hugo. “Because that has worked so well for Targaryens in the past.”

“Cassandra…”

She looks at Aemond, in slight disbelief.

“Let’s call it,” he sighs. “I will think about our options.”

“Your grace, I - ,” Hugo tries to start.

“I said, I will think about the options. Alone.”

Everyone gets up from the table except for Cassandra.

“Remind me why I have to be at these meetings again?”

“Cass, come on.”

“No seriously, remind why must I come if every time I open my mouth, I will get undermined.”

“You’re here because I want you in my coucil and I value your opinion, but y- ,”

“But what Aemond, but what?”

“You always start with him.”

“Ah, there it is. I’m so sorry that I am intruding on your marriage to Hugo.”

Aemond groans, sitting back in his chair. “The time I checked, you were all for the Northern inclusion. Creating bonds and whatnot.”

“Yeah, that before I found out he was a cunt,” Aemond opens his mouth, and Cassandra holds her finger up to stop him. “And before he so crassly, not so subtly tried to marry my young son off to someone up North.”

“Our son, and that was a joke.”

“Well, I did not laugh.”

“You don’t laugh at much anyway.”

Pushing herself away table, Cassandra gets up in a huff. He’s really not as funny as he thinks he is.

“Oh, don’t be like that.”

Cassandra doesn’t answer him, swatting his hand away when he tries to reach for her. Brushing her dress off, she makes her way towards the door.

“My queen.”

She stops just short and turns with a glare.

“What.”

“It is the fourth day of the week,” and for a moment she swears spots some warmth in his tone.

All Cassandra can do is nod. That is her job now; broodmare in a pretty dress.

That is of the upmost importance.

"And I switched over to sheep, and I think she likes it."

Cassandra tries to fight back a grimace watching Gaelithox chew violently on the raw meat. She is a lovely dragon, in all actuality. Smooth dark blue scales with the scattering of gold and silver streaks and dots on her wings; much like the night sky. Fitting of her name. But her beauty did little to appease Cassandra while in the dragon pit.

The only saving grace of Alaric's dragon at the moment was her size. Though grows by the day, her size is nothing compared to other dragons in the family.

"No need to worry, Gael likes you," he beams at her.

The only thing standing in between her being just like the sheep is her son, and she is quite sure of that.

"Maester Godwin told me you left your lessons early today."

Alaric's mouth scrunches up in a way that is entirely like his father. Haughty and annoyed.

"It is boring, and Maester Godwin smells funny."

"Gaelithox smells funny," Cassandra leads him out of the dragon pit once one of the dragon keepers takes over. Alaric looks horribly offended by the statement. "And you like her quite fine.”

"She does not....and if she did, she is allowed to. She is a dragon."

"My love, I just think it would do you some good to listen to Maester Godwin. He came all the way from Oldtown to teach you."

She must keep her tone even as possible. No point in pushing the situation. Pushing only leads to resentment, which is the last thing she wants. But Alaric always had loved his books and learning, it was surprising how adverse he was to the maesters lately.

"It is important that you are well versed in the history of Seven Kingdoms. From top to bottom. It will help you for the future."

"I do not understand why Daella can't just do it," he mutters it so quietly Cassandra almost misses it.

"Daella does have lessons. Hers are just different than yours."

"No, why can't she do the whole thing. She is older than me anyway."

Oh.

She makes them stop walking and pulls him into a corner. She doesn't even have to squat like she used to the speaker to her son. Much like his dragon, he grows by the day, and frankly it hurts her heart a bit. Grabbing his shoulder to make him to facing her, she sighs.

"You are your father's heir. Daella understands that. That is the way of things."

"I am not like him," he frowns.

"Like who?"

"Like father," that will be a relief in the long run.

Cassandra knows how much Alaric reveres Aemond. It is always on the tip of her tongue, the truth of it all. But she knows what it is like realizing your parents are not perfect; it feels like losing a God. Becoming unholy in a sense. There’s no use in ruining a perfectly good bond between father and son, not when these have changed.

"You are not your father, nor will you ever have to be. When the time comes, which is far away, you will forge your own path. The way all kings must."

She pulls him into a hug, kissing the top of his head. He still smells as lovely as he did as a baby. Fresh like lavender. "And on the bright side is, as king, if you want to make l Maester Goodwin smell to your liking you can."

Alaric squeezes her waist. "If he makes it till then."

With a bark of laugher, she pulls away.

"Alright, let's go see if Daella has annoyed Septa Melara into submission today."

The night before her wedding, Cassandra’s mother made instructions for one’s wedding night miserably clear.

“He will get on top of you and rut and rut in you,” Vera had drawn detailed pictures. Various positions as well. “Best think of something more pleasant. Like pretty dresses. Maybe bunnies or something.”

And when asked how many times she would have to endure such things, Vera gave a simple answer.

“As many times as your husband wants.”

Cassandra had shaken like a bird the moment Aemond started to fiddle with his belt. But both knew that they it had to be done.

It was their duty.

Things became better in department slowly but surely. Her mother’s insights only made Cass wonder what goes on between her parents, as crude as that sounds.

Then, of course everything went to shit, and it became easier to close in on herself. The few desires she did have extinguished quickly knowing Aemond wanted to receive that… comfort elsewhere. It was hard not to assume it was something wrong with her.

Her body almost becoming an empty vessel of some sorts. Now it must become a vessel for another royal baby.

A blessing. A privilege for you, she is sure her mother would say.

So, the fourth night of every week becomes a routine of some sorts. Right down the disgusting herbal remedy one of the septas offered to her. For fertility apparently. It does not help that she has Hugo sniffing around. Asking if things were going ‘well’ on assuring Aemond’s line.

Not hers. Not theirs. His.

Her voice is not apprieciated in the council room, but her womb is vital.

There is small relief in the fact Aemond, despite how he is like someone Cass has never met before and makes her emotions flare in a way she hates, is still a man. It takes little to rile him up these days. A flash of skin, the silk and lace of the Myrish night gown, the touch of his thigh. Complicated Aemond is simple and to the point on these nights. At times, if she forgets about the catalyst long enough, it is welcomed change.

But when Aemond arrives, he sits on the bed with a sigh. He does not take off his clothes, does not climb on top of her; he just sits with a shy look on his face.

“Do you want me on my stomach instead.”

She begins to turn but Aemond stops her.

“I hoped we could just talk for a moment.”

Cassandra blinks blankly.

“About what, Aemond?”

He shrugs. “About anything.”

Most of their conversation dissolve into tense silence or one of them just leaving the room. Cassandra gets up from the bed and over to the desk in the room.

“Do you want something to drink,” she sighs. “We will need it.”

She whispers the last part to herself. She doesn’t wait for Aemond’s answer, just pours him a goblet of wine. There is nothing she wants to speak Aemond about.

“I think one of my knights has fathered a child.”

Fuck. He knows what gossip does to her. She keeps her mouth closed as she sips on her wine slowly.

“With a married lady in court.”

When it feels like she may burst from not speaking, she shakes her head. “You’re lying,” she accuses lowly.

“Have you never noticed how much little Thomas Broom looks like Ser Peter?”

Cassandra thinks for a second before gasping. “The eyes!”

Aemond nods.

“I suppose that makes sense,” she takes a sip. “Lady Broom has been much nicer lately. And glowing. I thought it was first time mother bliss, but no it’s getting fucked. Lord Broom is twice her age as well as mean and surly. I remember when her parents married her off to that old bat.”

“He is also a proud old man. Gods forbid, he finally puts down the mulled wine and sees the obvious.”

“And here I thought you’d appreciate that sort of thing.”

As soon as it leaves her mouth, Cassandra’s whole body tenses as she grimaces. Aemond’s disposition deflates instantly. That was another way their conversations ended; a cruel slip of the tongue from one to another.

She wants to apologize for derailing what seemed to be a promising moment, but she is also so sick of feeling like she must tip toe around the thing that got them here in the first place. Tittering a thin line between desperately trying to move forward and not wanting him to forget this was his fault in the first place.

Awkwardly, Cassandra clears her throat to change the subject. “One the stable boys left flowers for Daella.”

“What?”

Cassandra laughs at his disgusted face.

“Hmm, the one that takes care of her horse. Gave them to her the last time she saw Moon.”

“And why was I not made aware of this earlier?”

“Because you would have the boys shipped off somewhere.”

“Boys!?”

“Your daughter is beautiful inside and out, she was bound to turn heads,” Cassandra would like take the credit for it, noting the resemblance. But she is sure Daella will grow up to be far prettier and more effervescent than she could dream of. “But you know Daella, she pays little mind to it.”

Daella is almost infuriating independent in the way she moves in the world. It is nothing like Cassandra seen from a girl that age. She has not figured out if that is an unfortunate outcome of everything that has happened, or if it is the innate thing that most Targaryens seem to be born with.

The rest of the time divulges into a hodgepodge of court gossip to politicking.

“That’s a dragon rider’s flaw, you think you are invisible. Then before you know it, you have an arrow through your dragon. There are better ways to negotiate besides fear.”

It is not until one of the oil lamps begins to flicker out, that Cassandra realizes how late it is. She is tucked into her bed, Aemond’s eyepatch is somewhere in the room, and his hair is out the braid it had been in all day. He gingerly starts to get off the bed.

“I can’t drink like I used to,” he groans.

She watches him start to go to door. Something dances on her tongue and burn her throat.

“Aemond,” he turns with a tired look in his eye. “You can sleep here… if you want. It has been a long day.”

She had never allowed him to stay her room unless it was after their business had been taken care of, even then he normally opted to just leave afterwards. Avoiding strife that may come.

He doesn’t give a verbal agreement. Instead, he kicks off the shoes he just put on, and begind to take certain things off to get more acclimated.

“Stay on your side of the bed and do not put your cold feet near me,” she reprimands him as she blows out the candles near her. She watches as he digs the gem in his eye socket out. For the life of her, she still cannot figure why he continues to do it. She has a theory he enjoys the grandiose, dramatic macabre nature of it as he does the slight uncomfortableness.

The room is almost pitch black except for the fireplace beginning to dwindle and the moonlight peaking through the curtains.

“You will have to fuck me in the morning since did not tonight.” Cassandra wants the bed to swallow her whole realizing how that sounds. Not as assertively distant as she’d like. “Because the sooner I become with child, the quicker we can stop this, of course.”

“Right, of course,” her embarrassment only grows hearing the mirth in his tone. “Goodnight, Cass.”

She turns onto her side, biting her lip.

It really doesn’t matter where I stand with him. I’m going to be fucked in the head regardless.

“Goodnight Aemond.”

#i actually decides to make Hugo from house Mormont instead a redwyne #one for the north inclusion #and two I like the bear islands of it all #the north and the iron islands disputing over bear islands #Cassandra having ties to the iron islands #it’s just an neat little callback imo #and fun parallel to them essentially battling over Aemond #also yay more insight to alaric bc he can actually talk lmao 😭#fmo k&q au #I have this convo between daella and Cassandra in my head… it’s kind of heartbreaking :/

16 notes · View notes