#so like micheletto is still exactly canon

[words-writ-in-starlight]

I hate you so much. As per our conversation, you absolute heathen: Borgias Star Wars AU Cesare as Leia Lucrezia as Luke Micheletto as Han Fucking go. I hate you so much.

This is the first of two Star Wars AUs, this one is mostly because I profoundly wanted an AU where Cesare was literally a prince of an entire planet and also I wanted Lucrezia to have a lightsaber.  I am currently working on another one for @wildehacked in which everyone is in the much more obvious position of being Sith.

Cesare doesn’t expect a rescue, as he sits inhis cell, back to the wall and one leg stretched out in front of him with theother bent close to his body.  Theceremonial robes of Alderaan are heavy, uncomfortable at the best of times andthese…these are not the best of times. Deep red cloth rubs against his skin, raw and tender from a few roundswith a torture droid, and he ignores it. He told them nothing—he has no profound alliance to the Rebellion, butthe image of the great and terrible Darth Sixtus wading through the endlessdunes of Dantooine had amused him, and after their young general turned theirweapon on Alderaan…

Well. Cesare is (was) hardly beloved of his people, raised by the stern andaustere Viceroy of Alderaan, della Rovere, but that was his planet, and afterit was gone, he denied the Empire information out of sheer spite.  It had been worth it, to see the toweringdark figure of Sixtus storm out of the room in a rage.

Still, though.  His planet is gone, and they didn’t lovetheir distant prince, and the Rebellion trusts him only on the weight of hisadopted guardian, who was well known in the right circles for his totallyruthless devotion to the cause.  Cesaresent away the information he had been told to care for with the droid, a PA-L0unit more willful than was good for it. It might make it to the Sforza woman della Rovere had intended it for,or it might not—either way, it is out of his hands.  The Rebellion won’t expend the manpower tosend a rescue mission, and the Empire has a new planet-killer to play with.  He’s confident he won’t live long enough tofind out whether PA-L0 made it or not.

It’s something of a surprise, then, whenalarms go off and his cell door opens to admit the shortest Stormtrooper he’sever seen.  

Cesare silently arches an eyebrow.  Princes grow up in the public eye, especiallyon bustling Core worlds like Alderaan, and Cesare prides himself on the abilityto show no response to any disaster. He’d had to cultivate it, after the second time he was caught withsomeone who, perhaps, should have been off-limits.

“Are you lost?” he asks dryly, and theStormtrooper reaches up to wrestle off their helmet, and Cesare’s mouth snapsshut in surprise.

It’s not the hard-faced man he expected.  Instead it’s a woman, a girl, really, with ayouthful face and hair like sunlight pinned up in a knot, and she smiles athim, perfect tiny teeth a string of matched pearls behind her pink lips.  She looks about his own age, maybeyounger.  There’s a sharp tug, like acord anchored somewhere in Cesare’s spine is pulling him toward her, and he hasthe sudden inexplicable urge to brush her hair back, the wayward coils of spungold escaping around her face.

“I’m Lucrezia Borgia,” she says, dimpling athim, and he tries to assemble words to reply. “I found your Paolo unit.  I’mhere to rescue you.”

Cesare has made worse snap decisions in hislife than take a rescue wearing the face of an angel, he concludes in under asecond.  They run.

They find another false Stormtrooper, andthis one is far more like what Cesare expected, a man with eyes like stone anda dispassionate expression under the smudged blood on his cheek.  Lucrezia calls him Micheletto, and Cesaresnatches a blaster off a dead Stormtrooper to toss at him.

“My lord,” Micheletto says with a slightincline of his head.

“This is Cesare della Rovere,” Lucrezia says,as if Micheletto doesn’t know who he is. “He gives your orders now.  Takeus back to the Condottiere, and we’llfind Caterina on the way.”

They do find Caterina.  Just in time to watch Sixtus cut herdown.  

“I knew her brother,” Lucrezia says coolly asthey crowd into the cockpit of Micheletto’s ship, the Condottiere.  It’s a bit of awreck, but he pilots it like a master, as skillfully as he had cut down anyStormtrooper in their path.  “He was anunpleasant man, to say the least.”  Shefingers the silver hilt at her hip—a lightsaber, she tells Cesare quietly, apparentlyonce the possession of her father.  “You’llforgive me if I don’t shed any tears over her corpse.”

“Of course,” Cesare says, and she smiles athim, and he takes it like a blaster bolt to the heart.

Some other highlights…

Lucrezia brings down the Death Star, her eyesclosed and her X-Wing guided by something at the center of her chest, somethingcold and bright as a Tatooine moon.  Whenshe lands, laughing and giddy with triumph, Cesare snatches her up around thewaist and spins her around, and he smiles at her, and she thinks idly aboutkissing it off his lips.  Michelettosmiles his faint smile and kisses her cheek like she’s a lady of status.  Lucrezia gets an award.  Micheletto, a killer and a criminal and abloody hand for hire, insists that he should not, and Cesare does not arguewith him.

Cesare finds the leader of the Rebellion, anex-Senator named Machiavelli, very much to his liking.  It is common knowledge that Machiavelli hassomething of an affection for the ex-Prince of Alderaan (it’s something Cesareasks himself often—is he still a prince at all, if he has no planet?), andCesare is not above leveraging this to his purposes.

Lucrezia kisses Cesare on Hoth, after shealmost dies in the cold, her skin still flushed from the incredibly hot showershe just took, and he clutches her to him like she’s as ethereal assunlight.  Her golden hair hangs aroundthem like a curtain, in her quarters, and the red lines her nails trace over hisshoulders and chest sting bright and clean, and Cesare thinks that he has neverloved someone like he loves this woman.

Cesare kisses Micheletto in an asteroidfield, during an argument, and again on Cloud City, where an old acquaintanceturns them over to Sixtus, and it’s harsh and bloodied and hungry.  They fuck in dark corners, still half-dressedand breathless, and Micheletto swears allegiance like he’s praying to a god,like Cesare is a force of nature, like Cesare is the Force.  Cesare leaves bruises shaped likefinger-lengths and the curve of his lips, and they’re still there whenMicheletto is frozen in carbonite by Darth Sixtus.

Lucrezia spends all of thirty secondstraining with a withered old Jedi named Orsini before she rushes away again,not even pausing at his warnings as she takes flight for Cloud City.  When she arrives, there are terriblerevelations about her family—Darth Sixtus, once Rodrigo Borgia, a power-hungrygeneral from the Clone Wars.  On the Condottiere, she cries into Cesare’sshoulder, her severed hand aching, and he kisses her tears away, her sunlight curls spilling over themboth.

Cesare saves Micheletto.  He does not care to be asked why he takessuch a risk for a man he professes to be a simple instrument.

Lucrezia, with a new silver hand like a piece of art, discovers that there is anotherBorgia—there was a third, an elder brother gone missing as a small child,before the Death Star was destroyed, but the young general died with his weaponand now there is only one.  Her twinbrother, Cesare Borgia, Prince of ex-Alderaan.

Cesare does not care.

[thecloserkin]

fic rec: we get dark, only to shine by anghraine

fandom: The Borgias (Showtime 2011)

pairing: Cesare Borgia/Lucrezia Borgia

word count: 168k, unfinished

Is it canon: Yes

Is it explicit: Yes

Is it endgame: Yes

Is it shippable: Yes

Bottom line: hi my name is asdfghhkl i’ve been in fandom half my life and this is without a doubt a top 5 fic for me. i mean i got to the end and i went right back to the beginning to reread it

This is a Season 1 AU where Cesare and Lucrezia are each other’s first loves, as they ought to have been. First of all I absorbed more Borgia history via this fic than three published biographies put together (Sarah Bradford, Lucrezia Borgia: Life Love and Death in Renaissance Italy; GJ Meyer, The Borgias: The Secret History; Christopher Hibbert, The Borgias and Their Enemies). I found myself looking forward to the end of every chapter so I could devour the footnotes. This is a meticulously researched, perfectly paced, ingeniously plotted gem of a story that made all the historical details relevant. It is also a very cerebral story, which is not to say it didn’t sucker-punch me in the gut, just that it isn’t rough around the edges — it is SHARP. Lucrezia and Cesare are whip-smart; all the secondary characters are smart; the author is obviously brill and you, dear reader, better bring both your brain cells if you want to keep up.

To set the scene, we are in Rome at the beginning of the papacy of Alexander VI aka Rodrigo Borgia, the first pope to openly acknowledge his children gotten out of wedlock. The primary thing to understand about the Borgias is they are FOREIGNERS. They are from Valencia and their native tongue is Catalan; and while Cesare, Juan, Lucrezia and Jofre may have been born in Rome, foreigners they will forever remain in the eyes of the xenophobic populace. Rome is a cesspit of backstabbing and the Borgias are an unusually close-knit, insular clan. Here is an overview of Cesare and Lucrezia’s codependent-from-the-cradle relationship, intensified ofc by the hostile environment of Rome:

At first, Lucrezia would scream whenever the nurse took her away, and sneak after him at all hours. Cesare scarcely spoke, except to her. They looked like kicked puppies.

Yet it had always been that way with them: Lucrècia a little queen reigning over their games, Cèsar devoted to her.

he never paid much attention to other women around Lucrezia, even when she was little more than a prattling child.

Cesare had woken with Lucrezia in his bed more times than he could count. At eight, twelve, a newly-returned sixteen, he often opened his eyes to his sister sprawled beside him or curled up under his blankets. On more anxious nights, when she had an unpleasant dream or felt particularly troubled, he would find her pressed against him

“When he left for Perugia, one might have believed him going to his gallows. Their letters must have stripped a forest.”

Ok not to be an incest junkie on main but shoutout to the Childhood Bedsharing Trope. “When he left for Perguia” is when he went away to university, leaving Lucrezia disconsolate. When he came home following this extended absence is when her feelings for him flowered into sexual desire. The fic opens on the eve of Lucrezia’s marriage to Giovanni Sforza. Her impending nuptials are causing her anxiety:

”But I am a Borgia. I should not be afraid of anything.” “Nonsense,” said Cesare, “I fear dozens of things, myself.” “You?”

So much to unpack here:

being a Borgia means never letting the world see your weakness

Lucrezia’s hero-worship!!! she obviously thinks he’s the bravest person she knows

Cesare confessing his vulnerability, his fears, chief of which is “I fear most of all for your happiness. I shall not be able to ensure it from so far.” i am y e l l i n g

To relieve her anxiety about pleasing her bridegroom, she convinces Cesare to give her KISSING LESSONS. That’s how it starts. Did someone say I Want My Brother to Be My First because I love this song.

“Is there no one else?” he demanded. She tilted her head inquisitively. “Is there a man you would rather instructed me? Really, is there another man you would permit to touch me? To even remain alone with me? Juan? Should I ask him instead?” “No!” Cesare scrambled to his feet.

She knows exactly how to push his buttons, doesn’t she? She baits him with the idea of another man touching her—specifically Juan, his archrival—an idea guaranteed to get his blood up, and Cesare instantly shoves his scruples aside. A kissing lesson ensues, Lucrezia is married shortly thereafter, and that’s how things stand when this fic diverges from canon: Cesare stops by Pesaro to visit Lucrezia.

Now we all know how Lucrezia’s first marriage went—her husband treated his horse a sight better than he treated her. And we see her struggle with telling Cesare the truth about the abuse, because the importance of the Sforza alliance must stay Cesare’s hand from his natural impulse to pulverize anyone who hurts Lucrezia. I like how this fic draws a distinction between the family’s reaction and Cesare’s reaction:

as soon as Cesare understood, he would be set on vengeance. Any brother would, even one less devoted than Cesare. Jofrè would probably cheer him on. Juan would have strung Sforza up already. And of course, Cesare was Cesare.

Juan and Jofre are her brothers too, and neither of them would have let Sforza’s behavior slide. Cesare, though, is on a whole other level. Cesare actually sees red. The most romantic thing he does in this entire story is play chess with Lucrezia all night to spare her the nightly ordeal of marital rape. That was the first night. The second day he has Micheletto loosen the girth of Sforza’s saddle to cause a nonfatal riding accident which—honestly it makes way more sense thematically for the brother who loves her more than life to do this, than for an untutored stableboy whom Lucrezia met 5 minutes ago to suddenly exhibit master assassin skills?!! Fuck canon, this is what happened. Also fuck insta-love, I’m so glad Cesare and Lucrezia are head over heels for each other rather than some randos.

His pulse quickened in his throat, yet it was nothing he had not seen before, when he read to her until she fell asleep, talked to her as she sulked in her room, sat at her bedside wiping cloths all over her feverish head.

I’m so soft for this!!! Tfw it’s not the physical proximity to your sibling—that part’s familiar—what’s new is your feelings shifting like tectonic plates?? Askjdfkdjfd.

The thing that really precipitates the affair is Lucrezia’s brute of a husband, obviously. This fic has one or two Giovanni Sforza POVS and it does such a great job of depicting that discomfort of being laughed at by people smarter than you. Sforza was strong-armed into this match and he feels slighted by the choice of bride—because she’s bastard-born, because she’s Spanish, he thinks he’s married down. This brings him into inevitable conflict with Cesare, who will brook no insult to Lucrezia on his watch:

“My sister, Lord Sforza, is a daughter of Rome. Roman-born, Roman-bred, Roman to her fingertips. Is it not so, Lucretia?”

The POWER of this line—remember when i said the Borgias are forever seen as outsiders despite being BORN IN ROME? i felt that.

Perhaps their mother was right, and she loved him too much. Too much, at any rate, to spare that kind of love for anyone else. Sforza was a monster, but if he had not been, she still would not have loved him.

Vanozza is very perceptive; she fears her children’s all-consuming love for each other leaves little room for other attachments AND SHE WAS RIGHT. To put it baldly:

They had spent their hearts on each other, all they had to give, with only scraps left for anyone else.

“I am your brother, Lucrezia … There is a word for this. I would not have anyone say it of you.” “A word for what? … For loving me more than the baronessa Ursula, or some other woman you only half-know?”

THERE IS A WORD, Cesare intimates. He won’t even say it aloud. But this black cloud of rumor and innuendo that hangs over their family is not going to dissipate just because they refrain from giving into their feelings. The first time Cesare heard someone call his sister a whore, she was literally four years old. They’ve had to guard their hearts their whole lives because there is no one they can trust outside the family — and yet the family itself is riven by strife and jealousy (Lucrezia has a good laugh when her maid mistakes “my brother is coming to dinner” for “the Duke of Gandia is coming to dinner”— as if Juan would ever visit her in Pesaro!):

“I am the only person in the world you love without qualification or resentment or confusion, aren’t I?” “Yes … Well. Some confusion.” “And yet you pull away from me. You have spent our lives pulling away from me, because--what? There is a word? You will not even say it. Why should we care if people who hate us, hate our blood and our language and our father, use one more insult? For heavens’ sake, Cesare, you yourself told me that this friar in Florence preaches against my hair.”

!!!! The dig at Savonarola I fell out of my chair looooool

“We have no real friends here, do we? We don’t even have allies beyond the Sforza. Everything depends on Papa. If anything happens, perhaps--perhaps it would be better to go home.” “We could run away to Valencia,” he murmured, eyes distant, almost wistful.

They never entertain this as a serious possibility because “anything is better than obscurity” and sry2say a modern AU is the only place these kids are going to get a happy ending. They’re too ambitious and fiercely protective of their family for aught else.

the affinity they’d always felt flaring to life, the certainty that he could depend on her abilities as well as her loyalties. Together they had outwitted Giovanni Sforza and all of Pesaro; now there was the Pope, their family, Rome, and then--all of Italy? The world? Why not?

I say again, HE COULD DEPEND ON HER ABILITIES AS WELL AS HER LOYALTIES. Because they’re a team. Picture Cesare and Lucrezia, weapons in hand, back to back holding off a horde of enemies—but like, metaphorically. That’s the kind of partnership they have, that’s the kind of trust they share.

he would put her before ambition and glory. Even their father had not … Cesare wasn’t like the Pope. He loved her more than anything.

Meaning there are things her father would put before her happiness, but there is absolutely NOTHING Cesare would not do for her. What woman could resist this utter unhesitating devotion when it is laid at her feet??

gazing at her with all the adoration he had never offered to God

He would never hurt me. If she knew nothing else, she knew that.

She resolves to consummate their relationship, despite all her knowledge of sex being bound up with pain. Like, she literally doesn’t know if sex can even be pleasurable for women, but she wants Cesare in the face of her fear, which is impressive and heartbreaking:

there were Roman courtesans who knew something of him that Lucrezia did not, and it was intolerable. She wanted everything.

Yessss she already has the rest of him, she just wants this one last piece of Cesare to belong to her too. And as for Cesare, this is the first & only time physical attraction and emotional connection have been united in the same partner:

he had never been one to stay in a woman’s bed, afterwards, but he felt no inclination to move.

She laid her hand against his face, rubbing her thumb over his cheekbone, gazing at him with her impossible mix of steady, companionable affection and rapture.

He had long known that he did not love anyone as he did Lucrezia; now he could not imagine desiring anyone as much, either.

What I love is that the romantic/sexual aspect is just another layer overlaid on what has always been the most important relationship in their respective lives; it doesn’t change the underlying dynamic:

“Have we been mauled by bears, do you think?” “Nothing so dramatic, I’m afraid. We would need scratches for that.”

This is them putting their clothes on after an assignation in the woods (they go riding a lot). What strikes me is the companionable tenor of their conspirational lies.

She relished each touch, yet there was something ordinary in it, familiar and commonplace. Your cross is crooked. Your cap is falling off. Let me adjust your sleeve. I can mend your tunic. They had always been peculiarly domestic together, a comfortable intimacy they never repeated with their brothers.

hello siblings being simultaneously incestuous & domestic is my kink byeeeee

“Cesare,” said Lucrezia, eyes widening, “am I your mistress now?” “You are Lucrezia Borgia. The Pope’s daughter and my beloved sister. The man who calls you anyone’s mistress will lose his tongue. As for you and I, we are what we are. I love you. We belong to each other. That is all.”

NO LABELS WE JUST BELONG TO EACH OTHER. Favorite favorite favorite line forever

His sister, his — lover? How could he give up either? What have I done?

Please picture me shoveling popcorn into my mouth as I type this. This is the pinnacle of everything I love about incest ships. You don’t fuck your sister unless you fucking mean it. It’s like you’re married from the first kiss. As Lucrezia explains later to someone who has ferreted out their secret: “He is not some lover to be mourned and forgotten. If I lose him over this, I lose him in everything.”

You can’t date your brother casually, the stakes are HIGH.

A lover is invented in order to explain Lucrezia’s love bites and torn clothing to her maid. Micheletto accepts this explanation as well, until one day he realizes the true state of affairs, and it’s such an innocuous little moment, it’s not like Micheletto wALks iN On tHEM or anything similarly dramatic, oh no. He is watching them—he is always watching—and he must have picked up on some subtle cue of body language or something bc all of a sudden it hits him they’re in love:

Valentino bent his head down; Lucrezia was saying something, Catalan, scarcely comprehensible through her heavy accent and giggles--Micheletto thought it had to do with the Duke of Gandía and a race. Whatever it was, Valentino whispered back to her, mouth against her ear, and they burst out laughing. There was no lover. He could not say, exactly, how he knew for certain then, with no proof, and not before or after. But he knew it. There were no others for them, no room for others: only Valentino and Lucrezia, and Micheletto watching over them.

The perfect encapsulation of this show tbh!!!

They are recalled to Rome to attend Joffre’s wedding to Sancia d’Aragon. They leave Lucrezia’s recuperating husband behind in Pesaro.

“If this all depends upon the impression that Juan makes--” “God help us,” said Cesare.

first of all, FINISHING EACH OTHER’S SENTENCES. but also, this is a delicate mission Juan’s been dispatched on—sent to Naples to woo Jofre’s bride—and i am l i v i n g as I watch Cesare & Lucrezia bond over their low opinion of Juan’s diplomatic mettle. it reminds me of that scene in S2E1 during the masquerade ball when Lucrezia asks Cesare if he can make her laugh, and IMMEDIATELY he causes Juan (who is dancing) to take a humiliating stumble and then Lucrezia & Cesare choke back giggles behind their masks. What’s great about returning to Rome is we get to see them interact with the rest of their family. The Pope is wroth with Cesare for staying so long away and for ignoring his summonses, but Cesare tells him the truth—that Lucrezia needed him:

“Your daughter, Holy Father, could wring concessions out of a saint, and I am anything but that.”

The audacity!! Cesare straight up confessed to fucking the Pope’s daughter but he said it flippantly, so Alexander heard what he wanted to hear.

Then there’s Giulia, who takes one look at Lucrezia and detects the glow of first love. Lucrezia fobs her off with the same story of a clandestine lover, assignations in the woods, etc.:

“Swear to me that you will not repeat what I have said.” “To your father? I already promised that.” “To anyone! … Father would separate us. Juan would kill him. If my husband discovered it …” Lucrezia shuddered. “That would indeed be a disaster,” Giulia said, “but I think you have forgotten someone, Lucrezia.” “What do you mean?” She touched Lucrezia's face. “Your brother Cesare.” Lucrezia absolutely froze.

BWAHAHAHA and then Lucrezia scrambles to convince Giulia that her secret is that Cesare is discreetly facilitating her affair, rather than the far more salacious secret that Cesare is her affair.

“Men,” Giulia said carefully, “say many things, Lucrezia.” “Other men,” said Lucrezia …. The very idea that Cesare might not love her!

And of course Lucrezia is in a v unique situation here but it is the lot of highborn girls in Renaissance Europe to be bartered off to seal an alliance; Lucrezia was raised to expect it. She did no more than her duty. She also recognizes the balance of power is never going to be in her favor when it comes to matters of the heart. With one notable exception, of course:

But Lucrezia had never shown the slightest inclination to guard herself from him. I love you, she’d said as soon as she could babble out the words, clambering into his lap, wrapping her arms about his neck, toddling after him, I love you best, I love you most. And now she declared herself dozens of times a day, in word or deed: whispering into his ear, laughing at his side, crawling into his arms when she could and watching him with a greedy, possessive look when she could not.

Cesare is the only one she trusts to never hurt her, whose interests are always aligned with hers, are never opposed to her family’s since Cesare is her family. The only wrinkle is, he can’t protect her adequately as he promised to. Cesare reflects that if the truth about the incest ever came out “he would be lucky to escape with excommunication, while Giovanni Sforza could violate her nightly and nobody would say a word.” The unjustness of this, the way patriarchy arrays itself in Sforza’s defense, galls Cesare to no end.

Another person who comes into their orbit in Rome is Jofre’s new bride, Sancia of Aragon. It’s historical canon that she slept with both Juan and Cesare; in this fic of course Cesare/Lucrezia are exclusive. Lucrezia can’t decide whether Sancia is predatory (she wants to bang Cesare) or suspicious (she has a hunch Cesare is banging Lucrezia). Either way:

Lucrezia wanted Sancia dead, or disfigured, or shamed--and she wanted her to leave happily with Jofrè--and she wanted Juan to take her away, to satisfy her with some kind of discretion--and for one mad moment, Lucrezia wanted everyone to know what Cesare was to her.

Sancia and Juan, by the way, conduct an outrageously indiscreet affair where their lovemaking is so obnoxious it keeps Lucrezia up at night. She does what she always does when she seeks solace: she crawls into Cesare’s bed. They’re young, they’re honry, they’re in love … but the sound of Juan pounding away at Sancia definitively kills the mood. Lmao. The next morning at breakfast Cesare & Lucrezia lay their complaints before Alexander, who gives Cesare a cardinal’s palace to live in and bids him take Lucrezia with him. So now the two of them move out of the papal palace into their very own palace. I mean, the possibilities are endless! Here is a gem from Sancia and Juan’s pillowtalk, where Juan’s assessment is simultaneously hilariously off base and 100% accurate:

“Cesare has always been a sanctimonious prude, if you ask me. At any rate, Lucrezia says he's having a fit of celibacy.” “Lucrezia?” Sancia said, nearly laughing. “What, he tells her about his—?” Juan snorted. “They probably tell each other about their bowel movements.”

Some of my favorite moments from this “Cesare + Lucrezia keeping house together” idyll: She visits him in the confessional, they hold a lengthy strategy conference about Sancia’s divided loyalties, and he wraps up with:

“Have you any other sins to confess?” “No … Well, I am guilty of the sin of lust, but you knew that already.”

LOOOOOL and how could I forget this:

She always wanted him: when he approached her, when he touched her, looked at her, when she thought of him, when someone mentioned his name.

I give you my main bitch Lucrezia Borgia, who fantasizes about being rawed by her brother WHENEVER SOMEONE MENTIONS HIS NAME. We stan a bona fide legend.

Ok so among the people they encounter in Rome are their cousins Isabel and Bernardo, who are also Borgias, and who independently unravel the truth re: Cesare & Lucrezia, which means that we get not one but two Outsider POVs which means I have probably died and gone to heaven. My friends TONIGHT WE FEAST IN VALHALLA. Ain’t nothing I love more than an Outsider POV angle on an incestuous romance, and in this case we are truly blessed because we get two. This is Bernardo as he listens to Cesare wax lyrical about his new paramour:

Yet Bernardo heard none of the wild passion or simpering folly of men in the throes of infatuation; Cesare looked and sounded less like a newly enthralled lover, and more like a man speaking of someone he knew well and liked a great deal. Bernardo felt a flicker of alarm.

Bruh you’re supposed to talk about your mistress’s tits not her personality clearly Cesare did not get the memo?? And this is Bernardo when the pieces finally click into place for him—he walks in on Lucrezia dyeing her hair:

A Spaniard, very fair? By nature? No, Cesare had said, half-laughing, and even then Bernardo caught the odd shift in his tone, from the adoration of a lover to an easy, familiar affection. And he remembered Cesare, indignant even for a young man in the throes of infatuation. She is not my mistress!

It’s the vehemence with which he denies it, the “not my mistress” part, that gives Cesare away. Because she’s not; she’s his everything. Bernardo cannot seem to wrap his head around how they can be both siblings and soulmates, since for him there is just no overlap between those categories:

Cesare certainly looked and sounded more brother than forbidden paramour. That, in itself, troubled him; if they had rejected the fact of their blood relationship in pursuit of their lusts, convinced themselves that they did not truly feel themselves family, pretended to be something other than what they were—well, that would have been bad enough. But they did not pretend. They acted less as if they willfully transgressed the boundary between siblings and lovers, and more as if they utterly failed to notice its existence.

Cesare and Lucrezia glanced at each other, their conspiratorial smiles alarmingly familiar. He’d seen those exact expressions on their faces before, dozens if not hundreds of times. They’d always had secrets, their little schemes and confidences, childish mischief. And now—what? Deeper secrets, more convoluted schemes, more dangerous mischief. Was that it? Did they lie together and think it little different from the rest?—altered in degree, but not kind? Did they … when had catapulting oranges at the unwary become a hidden incestuous affair?

This is Bernardo watching Cesare & Lucrezia argue about who “made the first move” as far as initiating their relationship:

he knew not whether he was witnessing a lovers’ quarrel or a sibling one. He felt uncomfortably that, subject aside, it sounded very much more like the latter.

I think part of Bernardo’s difficulty is the way patriarchy teaches men to think about women, and treat them as means to an end:

There were, after all, other ways to avoid a pregnancy—though in his experience of eighteen-year-old boys, they did not bother with such things, and rarely thought that far in the first place. But then, in his experience of eighteen-year-old boys, they did not fuck their sisters, either.

Because eighteen-year-old boys are typically in lust whereas Cesare Borgia has found the love of his life. Can we also take a moment to appreciate that Cesare and Lucrezia are eighteen and fourteen respectively?? This must be their canon ages. They’re not even fetuses they’re like, homunculi. I won’t bother to look it up since this author clearly has forgotten more details about the Borgias than I ever knew—as God is my witness I would take her footnotes with me to a desert island over 80% of the other fics in existence. Holliday Grainger was 22 when The Borgias started filming, and Isolde Dychauk was 17 in S1 of Borgia, and of course we’re used to Hollywood giving us thirty-year-olds playing high schoolers so it’s not as if Lucrezia’s been aged up an unconscionable amount, but wow, fourteen is young.

Isabel and Bernardo have another sister, Jeromina, whose husband’s neglect is indirectly responsible for her death in childbed. Lucrezia holds up poor Jeromina’s fate as a cautionary tale of what can happen to any woman who lacks a male protector in her corner:

”We are not speaking of Jeromina.” “Indeed not. Her brother never came for her.”

Shots fired!!! This is Lucrezia’s implied rebuke to Bernardo: that he wasn’t there for Jeromina, that Lucrezia’s own brother would never have let her down as Bernardo let Jeromina down. Later on Lucrezia even locates the origins of her incestuous passion in the same system that killed Jeromina—she describes loving Cesare thusly:

“Something I chose, for myself,” said Lucrezia. “Everything else has been chosen for me”

Excuse me while I emit a series of high-pitched pterodactyl noises. It’s a subject the fic touches on very lightly, but the topic of aristocratic girls falling in love with their brothers as a big middle finger to The Patriarchy? This is a topic NEAR AND DEAR to my heart.

Isabel is a woman and sees more clearly than Bernardo does that Cesare & Lucrezia’s attachment is not mere puppy love:

Nor did she believe that a passion built on lifelong intimacy would be easily broken.

Damn straight, this is the real deal. Isabel then takes a different tack—she suggests that Lucrezia is at an age where girls itch to exercise their power over men. Lucrezia grants her the justice of this observation but counters that she’d never use Cesare so ill:

“Do you mean to say that your distress was such that you would have seduced any man who cared for you? You chose your brother because … he was there?” ”I could not have seduced a satyr. Cesare desired me as I did him.”

I COULD NOT HAVE SEDUCED A SATYR lmao. But it’s true, she was bruised body and soul, and Cesare rode up like a white knight and the dam burst. It wasn’t inevitable, but a confluence of events forced them to reckon with their feelings. And once they crossed that Rubicon there was of course no going back. Because they fit and they’re perfect for each other obvs. Just look at my babies reminiscing about childhood hijinks:

“The night that Juan switched your glass with Mother’s,” said Cesare, “You were what, nine?” Lucrezia stared at him, then laughed. “Ten. I spent a wretched night, and morning too. What made you think of it?” “Only that we have shared every part of our lives,” he said. “There is nothing to hide or pretend. We already know everything there is to know.”

otpotpotpotpotpotpotpotpotp

I need to quote a few more Bernardo POV passages because that’s where Cesare gives us some declarations of love worthy of the ages:

”I cannot remember a time when I did not love her above all else. Above the family, the world, God. I remember nothing of any time when I have not lived for her, when I would not die for her.”

“Some degree of remorse would not go amiss.” “I regret nothing,” said Cesare. “And your—” Bernardo shook his head. “What do I even call her now?” “My sister,” Cesare replied.

tl;dr Cesare: I HAVE ZERO REGRETS NONE

“Tell me that somewhere in Italy, or Spain, or any other nation, exists a woman I could love as I have loved Lucrezia. Tell me that there is a woman who could understand me half as well as she does. A woman who would know me as I am, and not as the world or my father or anyone would shape me. A woman who would see my true nature without fear—see the mark on it—share it. Look me in the eye, Bernardo, and tell me there is any woman who is so much my own soul.”

If you don’t ship them after that speech then your mom’s a hoe, I don’t make the rules.

Cesare: I am sanctified in her.

Bernardo:

Narrator: Bernardo hardly knew where to look.

Me: ascends to a higher plane

Bernardo eventually comes around. He’s had longer than Isabel to adjust to the incest revelation, so he tries to soften the blow for her. This is the two of them comparing notes:

”The last time I saw them together, Cesare had his hand on his dagger half the time, and then they started arguing about which one of them was the more responsible, as if they’d stolen a pastry. He laughs about her hair. Outside of themselves, they treat the whole matter as a … a lark.” This aligned so exactly with Cesare and Lucrezia as Isabel knew them that she winced. Nevertheless, her dry voice didn’t alter. “How uncivil. They might at least have the courtesy to pretend that they regard the change as a matter of gravity.” “They don’t think they have changed,” he replied.

THEY DON’T THINK THEY HAVE CHANGED— winner winner chicken dinner. Finally he gets it.

So there is this ring. A family heirloom which belonged to their grandfather, which Lucrezia inherits from poor died-in-childbed Jeromina, and recklessly bestows upon Cesare. This is the visible token of her affection, this is her way of letting the whole world know what he means to her. The problem is that Isabel is the one who disbursed Jeromina’s effects, so she knows full well the provenance of the ring in question, and what it signifies that Lucrezia gave it to Cesare. Subtlety, these kids do not have it. Cesare openly wearing the ring clues Isabel in on the incest, which is maybe not the worst result ever because family is still family but damn kids you gotta be more careful. What happens next, though, is a scene that absolutely wrecked me. We get a a scene where they EXCHANGE RINGS:

“Isabel gave it to me.” Lucrezia clasped her fingers in her lap. “For my husband.” “Do you remember what I studied at Pisa?” “Civil and canon law.” “Yes.” His voice was hoarse. “Did you know that if a man and a woman consent together, the ring and vows alone bind them in marriage? The Church does not wish for unblessed marriages, but by precedent and decree, they are marriages nonetheless.” His cardinal ring rested still in her palm. Cesare closed her fingers over it. “Alexander III declared that if the parties concerned say I receive you as mine to one another, they are married as solemnly as if blessed by a priest.”

So he gives her his cardinal’s ring to wear. And when his father notes its absence on his finger he straight up admits Lucrezia made off with it, you know how i can’t deny her anything, and the dinner table conversation turns to another topic. Because Cesare & Lucrezia are apparently just Like That and everyone who knows them is used to it. For pete’s sake they are supposed to be the well-adjusted ones among the Pope’s children. Every other member of this family is further along the disaster spectrum than these two, according to Isabel’s internal monologue:

Cesare and Lucrezia, those oases of sense and proper feeling among Alexander’s children, committing incest. Adultery too, now that she thought of it. Perhaps. It depended on the particulars.

Adultery is almost an afterthought lol

Parenthetically I do wanna draw y’all’s attention to this passage:

“I will kill him. I swear to you, Lucrezia, I shall carve his heart out of his body and give it to you on a platter.” Lucrezia put a hand over his chest. “I don’t want his heart,” she said. “I want yours.”

The above passage has the same energy as this passage:

One night she had Jaime follow him, to confirm her suspicions. When her brother returned he asked her if she wanted Robert dead. "No," she had replied, "I want him horned." She liked to think that was the night when Joffrey was conceived.

That’s a Cersei POV and the thing about looking at Cesare/Lucrezia and Cersei/Jaime parallels is I feel like the former is usually more sinned against than sinning, and the latter is the opposite. Cersei doesn’t want Jaime, she wants Robert cuckolded, she wants to Show Them that she’s Lord Tywin’s daughter and nobody gets away with disrespecting her. Idk maybe it would have read differently if we’d had the same events from Jaime’s POV?

I realize that you guys don’t need any more reasons to love this fic but I want to end with the scene where Cesare’s gearing up to challenge Count What’s-His-Face, Ursula’s dumbass husband, for the insupportable insult he gave Vanozza at Lucrezia’s wedding. One thing I appreciate about Showtime!The Borgias over Canal+!Borgia is this Cesare’s relationship with his mom is much closer than his counterpart’s. His willingness to fight a duel for his mother’s honor demonstrates (1) that his sister isn’t the only woman he cares about and (2) that he puts his family first. Lucrezia’s “Return to me victorious” still slaps more than any line in actual canon, don’t @ me. In that moment, he could have slain Mars. “I will,” he promises her.

 If I don’t burn

                      if you don’t burn

                                                if we don’t burn

how will the light 

                             vanquish the darkness?

That’s Turkish poet Nazim Hikmet writing about a folk hero who spontaneously combusted of love. In conclusion no one burns brighter than Cesare & Lucrezia, the actual loves of my life.

[thewingedwolf]

I LOVE YOUR BORGIA LIVEBLOGGING AND I LITERALLY FEEL ALL OF YOUR POSTS IN MY DAMN SOUL

LMAO I’M GLAD TO KNOW SOMEONE APPRECIATES ME YELLIN ABOUT CANCELED SHOWS

but liiiiiiiiike. how do u get such a good cast and then do *that* with it like

idk if this was neil Jordan on his own or if fucking hirst was influencing him bc the borgias, especially s3, have hirst written all over it but like. don’t give me that “oh it’s historically accurate” about bullshit that isn’t historically accurate when ur story isn’t ANYWHERE NEAR HISTORICAL ACCURACY.