#which is indeed the way to go with our madeleine girl

[drswannbond]

Bond looking at a sleeping Madeleine in their Matera hotel room.

[dragonsfictavern]

Dancing With Danger

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

𝗮/𝗻: I’ve been wanting to write for the TVD franchise for a bit now and this is my first attempt, haha. Yes, it was kinda hard writing different speech and different mannerisms but I hope it turned out well and pretty accurate for you all. Hope you guys enjoy it!!!

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 3.8K

1860

“So who dare you take home tonight, Miss?” My dear friend Madeleine asked me. I look at her with narrowed eyes, causing her to giggle shamelessly. 

“I am a godly woman, Madi. I would not let a man bed me so easily,” I tease. Though it may be improper, I see no man around to witness, allowing Madi and I to freely laugh as loudly as we want. 

“What kind of gentleman will it take this time, then?” She asked lightly. We both turn our attention to the double-doors, and the party that was being held beyond them. 

“No, no, Madi. Not a gentleman… something else.” I smirk.

 Madeleine and I walk into the ballroom, arms latched together as our eyes search for a possibly free man to dance with. Though I was eager to dance, I couldn’t help but admire the room my father put together in our estate. The room was embedded with gold designs and shimmering silver over the white walls. The design followed up to the ceiling where paintings of men and women dancing decorated the space. Two chandeliers hung on each side of the room. Diamonds and lighting making the whole room sparkle. 

On top of the light tan floors, laid tables of food and wine. Silks were draped over the wood of the tables and sconces hung on the wall above each table. A single candle to light the area. 

Madeleine and I walk around the room, waving and saying hello to the respectable people of London. 

“Drink?” Madeleine asks as I eye a man around my age. He was blonde, shimmering brown eyes. He was cute. He danced with a lady of the court. By the way their eyes stayed enclosed on one another, they were completely smitten. I smile and duck my head. Love was absolutely adorable. “Miss? Would you like to get drinks?” Madeleine asks again. I jump a little and look over to her. 

“Pardon me, Madeleine. My mind was elsewhere. But not to worry, it’s back,” I joke. I lead us to the closest table to look over the wine list. Madeleine picked up her usual and turned back to the crowd. I rather liked to take my time and pick something new. 

I am just about to pick up a nice red when Madeleine lets out a squeak. I turn to look at her wide-eyed when she grips my forearm tightly. 

“Madeleine, mind your manors,” I scold. She looks down at our arms and instantly lets go. 

“I apologize m’lady, but look and you will see my reason for such haste behavior,” she explains. I turn back to the crowd and my eyes immediately fall onto the count's son, Jameson, who I find already staring at me. I jerk back around to face the table with a gasp. Madeleine giggled quietly and faced me. “He is quite cute. Explain to me again why you won’t give him a chance? Your father approves,” she wonders. I finally pick up my drink and turn to her. 

“It’s exactly that my father approves that makes me not want him.” I grin, bringing the glass to my lips. Madeleine sighs and looks back to the Count’s son. 

“Miss, your father is the Prime Minister. You need to marry someone of the same caliber,” Madeleine reminds me. I down the rest of the glass and stare at her. 

“I will marry for nothing less, then for love. I refuse otherwise,” I inform her. She gives me a hard look. 

“You know that is not how things work…” she trails off. I blow air out of my nose, placing my hands on the fabric above my corset. God, these things are tight. Why are they always so tight? I go to answer her when she lets out another squeak. “Miss, he’s heading this way,” she announces. My head snaps to where I saw him last and yes, indeed, he was heading this way. 

“Let us move,” I order. I grab her hand and weave us through the men and women among the crowd. Madeleine stays silent as I drag her along with me; which is probably for the best considering her opinions on my relationships with men. 

“Miss! Miss! Please, stop!” Jameson says as loudly as socially acceptable. What fun is a man who follows the rules...? I roll my eyes and move faster. We reach a crowded corner and I stop us. 

I immediately start laughing, making sure to hide it behind my gloved hand. When I look up, I see Madeleine with a stern expression and her hands on her hips. My laughter seizes. 

“Do you have something to say?” I ask, an edge to my tone. Her hands fall to her sides. 

“No miss,” she responds. A grin makes its way onto my face. 

“No, no. Speak your mind, handmaiden. Please, I do love to hear the thoughts of servants. Even when they seem to be...unwarranted.” I stand up tall, though Madeleine remains taller. Madeleine shakes her head and casts her eyes to the floor. 

“No, Miss. I have nothing to say,” she says timidly. I step forward, guiding her chin to look up at me with only a single finger. I look at her intently. 

“I thought so,” I say softly. I let my hand fall and step a few paces back. 

“My darling girl,” a new voice calls out. Surprised, I turn around with a wide smile. I walk forward and embrace my father heartedly. 

“Father! I didn’t believe I would get to see you this evening,” I express. His chuckles shakes us both before he steps back. 

“Yes, well, we’ve had some surprise visitors arrive and I wanted to introduce them to you,” he explains. He takes my arm and intertwines his own with mine. He turns us to a family of three. Two men and a woman.

The first man was rather tall. He had brown shaggy hair that fell across his forehead. He was quite broad. Stiff and proper. His hands were folded in front of him and I knew he had no interest in taking my hand and I had interest in giving it to him. So instead, he nodded and I returned the gesture. I felt my father stiffen but I merely squeezed his arm; a subtle gesture to calm down. 

“This is Mr. Elijah Mikaelson,” my father introduced. 

I looked to the woman next to him. She was also fairly tall. She had long blond hair and her features looked quite regal. Blue eyes, a straight nose, a sharp jaw. She was gorgeous. She did a little curtsy and I sent one back. 

“This is Miss. Rebekah Mikaelson,” my father continued. 

My breath caught in my throat as my eyes fell onto the last man. He was breathtaking. His height matched close to his siblings but his frame was leaner than Elijah’s. His hair was a dirty blonde and his eyes were like the deepest parts of the forest; a dark green that shook my core. They had mischief dancing in them and his stance reflected it. His lips were plump and I wondered what it would feel like to press my own against them. 

“...and this is Niklaus Mikaelson. The patriarch of the Mikaelson family,” my father finished. My lips part to speak but all words quickly die off my tongue as Mr. Mikaelson brushes his fingers along the bare skin of my forearm before he gently guides my hand up to his mouth. 

“It’s a pleasure,” he rumbles, his eyes looking up at me as he stays bowed. I could feel the heat of his breath through my gloves and I was positively breathless. He doesn’t say anything else but stares into my eyes as his lips lower onto my hand. I inhale sharply; the feeling of those lips on my hand did nothing to help the images I was having of something further. He steps back with a smirk on those beautiful lips. 

“The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Mikaelson,” I say lowly. Niklaus’ smirk broadens. My father begins talking to Elijah but my gaze stays focused on Niklaus. We stare at each other and all sound drowns out of the room. 

Then in a snap, Niklaus looks away from me and angles himself to my father. I place my hands along my bodice and I look away into the crowd. Who is this man..? 

“Sir, I wondered if it be alright to ask your daughter for a dance?” Niklaus asks. I quickly look over between the two men. My father also looked between the two of us. Niklaus’ siblings seemed to be glaring at their brother. 

“Yes… I think that would be a lovely idea.” He nods. Niklaus’ eyes fall back onto me and he holds out a hand. 

“What do you say, Miss?” He asks, keeping his hand out and letting me decide this time if I wish to take his hand. I keep my gaze towards him. Just when I am about to take his hand, my eyes flicker to the side. Jameson was once again heading this way. I wince, turning around to Madeleine who continued to look to the floor. I step up to her. 

“Madeleine. Distract Jameson for me,” I tell her. She looks up at me, brows furrowed. 

“How exactly should I do that?” She asks. My eyes widen. 

“I don’t know! Dance with him, bed him, let him ravish you in a dark corner for all I care. I just need you to distract him,” I whisper harshly. Madeleine's eyes set ablaze in rage. Before she gets a chance to say anything I push her towards him. 

With them both out of the way, I face Niklaus and take his hand. 

“I would love to dance,” I answer. I set my hand in his and we make our way onto the center of the ballroom once the song ends and the next one is about to begin. 

We separate from one another and then take a step towards each other as we begin the Viennese waltz. 

I place my right hand in his, feeling the pressure of his hand gripping mine. He slides his other hand to my back and I inhale sharply, instinctively arching my body at him. Continuing on, I lightly let my hand sit on his right bicep. 

He watches me intently as we dance in a circle before spinning me under his arm and pulling me close. Closer than socially acceptable. I smirk and subtly take a step back. He matches me, taking a step forward while wearing that same look as mine. He repeats the movement before we twist our bodies and cross and uncross our feet as we step down the room along with all the other couples. 

We get to the end and instead of twirling me, he picks me up and turns us both. I squeal, clutching tightly onto his arms. I look around seeing as no one else had done it. He sets me down and everyone steps back down the room. 

I look up at him and smile even wider then expected when I see a smile on his face as well. This time he twirls me normally and we move to stand side-by-side. My arm arches in an awkward angle to grasp his shoulder and his arm moves completely around my back, pushing my flush against him. I gasp. A scoundrel this man was. 

I quickly look to my father, wishing not to see a red face and an angered expression when surprise rather fills my features. Elijah Mikaelson was keeping my father quite busy in conversation. 

“At least my dear brother is good for something,” Nicklaus mentions after seeing where my gaze was. 

We move back down the room, twisting to face each other and touch hands before pulling out again. We repeat this all the way down the room. 

“Is he not useful for other things?” I ask, trying to make conversation. When in reality I couldn’t be more interested. Why would I be interested in getting to know that man when this man was right here and dancing with me. 

We reach the end and we step back from each other. I send Nicklaus a curtsy and in return he bows down to me. What a delicious sight…

He stands up and holds out his hands in front of him. I take them and we twist and cross back down the room. 

“Perhaps he’s useful for some things,” Niklaus responds vaguely, a knowing smirk on his face. I narrow my eyes as we go back to our original dance position. 

He took the lead, turning us around and around while standing in place. After about four spins, I stepped around him, and then he stepped around me, all the way to the other side of the room. 

We separated, taking a step away from each other before swaying our hands in front and behind our person as we followed along with the beat. Niklaus always seemed to remain close though. An occurrence that made me excited while at the same time, uneasy. 

“So, how are you liking our little town?” I ask. He gathers me back in his arms before we danced in a circle and he spun me around once again.  

We danced in a few more circles, and each time, Niklaus would twirl me and tug me closer to him. It was completely inappropriate and that must have been why I loved the feeling so much. Or perhaps it had more to do with the drool worthy man standing in front of me than the scandal itself. 

“It’s… lively,” Niklaus responded, looking around at the people surrounding us. Both those who also danced and those who watched. 

He tugged me close after a twirl once again and once again did it completely take my breath away. We start moving, dancing in one giant oval around the room with all the others instead of each separate couple dancing in smaller circles. 

“Well that’s vague,” I respond bluntly. Catching my error quickly, my eyes bulge out on their own accord. Niklaus’ grip tightens on me. “I apologize, sir. I’m afraid my tongue was a bit quicker than my mind.” 

Niklaus chuckles lowly as he spins me before snapping me back into his hold. We step out away from each other and twist back in as we walk back down the room. 

“No need to apologize, m’lady…” Niklaus trials off as we stop mid-way down the room before he dances me in a circle down the rest of the room. We then turned around and began doing the four-step dance up the room. He twirled next under his arm and this time, stepped up to me instead of simply dragging me towards him. “I like a bit of fire,” he said darkly. 

My mouth seemed to be stuck in a half-gasp and a half-smirk. But inside I was utterly and completely awestruck. 

We dance back down the room, somehow stopping right in the middle of everyone. We danced, twirling in a circle as we stayed in our place. Niklaus twirled me once more under his arm and we each take a step back, our hands still connected as we bow to each other one last time. 

His eyes stayed on mine, unmoving as we bowed. I felt my throat go dry and my hands begin to clam up from under my gloves. He too seemed to have a fire that lit his soul and kept his eyes ablaze. With one firey look, his eyes sent a heat through my entire body. I had never felt more alive. 

We hadn’t even noticed that the room had erupted into claps and calm cheering, or that the other couples had walked off of the floor. Niklaus and I both stood up, our hands still grasped. 

From over Niklaus’ shoulder, I spot Jameson staring at us with a very clear sign of anger on his face. The poor boy was jealous. He was jealous even after I had clearly stopped all his previous advances towards a courting. 

My eyes flicker over a bit to Madeleine. She looked back at me, shame and guilt covering her features. I shake my head at her, causing her to stare down at the ground. The girl couldn’t even keep a mindless man busy, how was she ever going to find a husband? 

Movement around her, drew my attention. Anything could’ve been more interesting… and it seemed it was. Jameson was headed to us. I quickly look back up at Niklaus, only to see he was already staring at me. I blink quickly a few times, jumping back from him in slight surprise. But I’m quick to wipe that expression off of my face and instead, plastering on a charming smile. 

“Would you like to head someplace a little more… private?” I ask, taking a chance. A devilish smile appeared on his face. He motioned his arm to the double-doors and nodded. 

“Lead the way.” I smile back and intertwine our arms, leading him to the doors. I look over my shoulder as Jameson halts. I smirk, sending him a wink before walking through the doors held open for me by none other than Niklaus himself. What. A. Gentleman… well, hopefully not. 

It seemed I was rather lucky to find Mr. Mikaelson this evening. Not only did he get me out of a dance and an encounter with Jameson, but he also looked to be a perfect snack. All this dancing and socializing did make me feel rather peckish. Besides, I haven’t fed in what felt like ages. 

With my hunger for the blood of my dance partner on my mind, I guide him to one of the many extra rooms that barely anyone uses. Like always, a fireplace was lit up and couches and chairs sat in front of it. This room I had taken us too, seemed to be one of the many small libraries my father used to keep his old books in. 

I turn around and lock the door, even pulling on the handle to make sure it’s secure. Wouldn’t want him running away now would we? I suddenly feel his presence behind me. I smirk, letting my fangs appear along with the veins under my eyes at the prospect of blood. 

I turn around, ready to strike when I suddenly jump back, realizing his face looked exactly like mine. I retract my fangs. Niklaus had jumped back too, obviously startled by this surprise, maybe even a little more than I was. Oh, how men loved to underestimate a woman. He had actually fallen onto one of the chairs and was currently leaning back on one as he stared up at me with a pleasant surprise. 

“You’re a vampire?!” I shout at him. He chuckles, using his arms and pushing himself out of the chair. 

“That much is obviously, love. What had not been obvious, was the fact that you too are a vampire,” he states, walking closer to me. “The question is, who turned you?” He asked, getting so close to me I could feel his breath on my face. 

Katherine’s face flashed through my mind. And with her face,  memories of her asking to stay at my estate for a while as she had been running from a very powerful family… my eyes narrow. I jut out my chin and look him in the eye. I wasn’t going to be intimidated by him. Even if Katherine, the most intimidating person I had ever met, feared him. 

“I think you know,” I whisper. 

Niklaus gripped my shoulders harshly and slammed me up against the door. Sure he was strong as hell and my back actually did hurt a bit, I couldn’t help but think his intimidation and strength were… attractive. 

“Where is she?!” He growls out, veins popping back up under his eyes. He removes his hands from my shoulders and places them on the door, effectively caging me. I laugh lightly, bringing my hands up and brushing the skin under his eyes with the pads of my thumbs. 

“Afraid I don’t know,” I say softly, a pout forming on my lips for a brief moment. “She stayed here for about two weeks a couple of months ago. In those two weeks, she turned me, returning the favor of letting her stay for a bit. Then she left and told me nothing of where she was going,” I explain everything to him. He raised a brow, looking over my face for any sign of lying. He cleared his throat, looking me dead in the eye. 

“Are you telling me the truth?” He asked. Compulsion? HA! Katherine had told me to start drinking small sips of vervain to help stand the burning so that no other vampires could use compulsion on me. She hadn’t told me that these Mikaelsons, probably the powerful family she was running from, were able to use the power on other vampires. I play along. For the fun of it. 

What business of it was Niklaus’ where Katherine was? He obviously didn’t like her that much and I owed quite a bit to Katherine. So if it took a pretty little lie in order to keep her safe, I’ll do it. 

“Yes,” I answer. Niklaus rose a brow as his eyes narrowed at me. 

“I think this mishap could turn into quite a fulfilling opportunity,” Niklaus stated with a growing smirk. 

“And how is that?” I ask, looking him up and down. He still hadn’t moved from his previous position. Klaus followed my actions and looked me up and down. 

“There can be many benefits to this arrangement,” Niklaus spoke darkly. He let his arms fall off the door before bringing his right wrist close to my face. “Curious?” He asked. I look up at him from under my lashes, a smirk on my face as I take his wrist and hold out my own. 

“Partners,” I agree. Niklaus smiles widely in the most wicked way and looks down at my wrist, veins appearing under his eyes and fangs poking out from his mouth. 

“And what a pleasurable partnership it will be,” Niklaus said before biting into my wrist. I cry out, my breath leaving me in an instant. 

“Indeed it will be,” I said breathlessly as veins appeared under my own eyes and fangs poked out from my mouth. I quickly latched onto his wrist. 

I wasn’t going to betray Katherine… but having a little bit of fun before he realized that wouldn’t hurt anybody. 

Now this was definitely not what I expected to come out of tonight… but I wouldn’t have wanted anything else besides this to happen, anyway. 

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Treat Your S(h)elf: The Silence of the Girls by Pat Barker

We’re going to survive - our songs, our stories. They’ll never be able to forget us. Decades after the last man who fought at Troy is dead, their sons will remember the songs their Trojan mothers sang to them. We’ll be in their dreams - and in their worst nightmares too.

- Pat Barker, The Silence of the Girls

“It’s always hard on women, when a city falls.” Briseis, former princess of the Trojan city of Lyrnessus, has been Achilles’s slave for several months when someone she knew in her old life says these words. From the ancient world to our modern world there is this ugly and unspoken line of rape as a weapon of war. History is replete with examples. In the 20th-century where Nazis raped Jewish women despite soldiers' concerns with "race defilement" and raped countless women in their path as they invaded the Soviet Union and then in Berlin 1945 Russians in turn went on a brutal raping spree to punish the Germans. In the bloody Balkan wars in the 1990s, Serbian forces tortured and summarily executed scores of Muslims and Croats. In the Iraq war and the many conflicts in Africa in the 21st Century, rape is systemically used to subdue a defeated enemy. History shows the ugly truth that women’s bodies have always been viewed as the spoils of conflicts waged primarily by men.

The issue of rape in war is something that has always sat uncomfortably with me ever since I did my stint as an army combat helicopter pilot in Afghanistan. From my high vantage point I felt a detachment from the electronic battlefield - for everything was viscerally seen from my helmeted eye patch visor lens and not the naked eye. I couldn’t look people in the eye as as soldier on for patrol would have. The fear and sweat is the same but the risk is different. Soldiers on patrol or on a mission risk the constant threat of ambush, sustained attack under mortar or fire fights as well as the ever present danger of being blown up by an IED by accident. Pilots risk being coming under attack too by being ambushed by RPG rocket fire or coming under fire from below. Worse, was to think if you got hit and you had to bail and you were all alone, survival and evasion from capture becomes fearfully paramount. Of course they train you for this until it hopefully becomes muscle memory in how to survive and take evasive action from being captured and resisting as long as you could under interrogation. But as a female pilot the unspoken fear that dare not speak its name was ever present: the fear of rape.

I’m not sure my brother officers - no matter how sincere and well intentioned they were because we were all fiercely protective of one another - really understood what the word ‘rape’ means for a woman. Indeed a male friend and ex-army colleague said to me in jest don’t ever kid a man about kicking him in the balls because it’s one thing every man can imagine feeling but would find it hard to explain the excruciating pain when a man does get his balls bashed in. I don’t think the two ‘experiences’ are the same obviously but I understand how hard it is to articulate what it might feel like. I never really allowed myself to be consumed by the fear of what might happen if I ever got shot down and was captured but instead I made sure to focus on my job. It never really became pressing issue for me throughout my time in on the battlefield. I was lucky I got out in one piece despite a few close scrapes along the way.

I did hear awful and terrible stories from my oldest brother who served in the Iraq War of the raping of Kurdish women by Iraqi forces. It sickened him and left him hollow the the things he witnessed first hand. Through the charitable work of ex-veterans I have come across refugee woman who shared their harrowing stories of how they were violently and systematically raped as war booty and as primal assertion of victor dominance and control.

I was thinking about all these things as I read Pat Barker’s novel about one of the most famous wars of all, telling the story of the siege of Troy from the point of view of the local Trojan women taken by the Greek forces. It’s The Iliad as seen through the eyes of 19-year-old Briseis, the Queen of Lyrnessus who’s taken as Achilles’s “bed-girl”, his “prize of honour” for mass slaughter.

Barker’s not the first to turn to the classics for inspiration. It’s popular practice these days. Kamila Shamsie’s Home Fire and Michael Hughes’ Country, for example, transpose classical stories onto contemporary settings.  The Silence of the Girls is yet another much welcomed book to offer a fresh perspective on Homeric women, following Madeleine Miller’s brilliant Circe. But while Miller’s reinvention of literature’s first witch brilliantly evoked a world of ancient magic in retelling The Odyssey from the witch’s point of view, not that of the warrior she waylays on his journey home, Barker’s story has its feet very firmly on the ground. Yes, the gods are still there – you can’t tell the story of the Trojan wars without them, after all. The gods remain mostly off stage but they are present in the background, magically restoring the mutilated dead body of Hector. The sea goddess Thetis, Achilles’ mother, is a briny, frightening presence, as are the dark shore and the waves by which the whole horrible story takes place. Apollo still sends a plague, Achilles is the son of a sea goddess who brings him divinely forged armour and Hector’s body is magically restored to freshness after being pulled behind Achilles’s chariot.

But what really stands out are not heavenly allusions but the dirt and filth and disease and sheer brutal physicality of the Greek army marauding everything that stands in their way to Troy - there’s no magic here to ease the pain and trauma of rape or murder or even to help exact revenge. And while Achilles’ divine mother makes an appearance, and Apollo is beckoned by Briseis to bring about a plague, the gods remain on the peripheries of this story. If Circe, which chronicles the life of its titular character, is very much about the gods and their egos, then The Silence of the Girls, however, is very much about humans, their egos and their wars - both personal and political.

In all this Barker gives female characters such as Circe and Briseis the voice they’ve traditionally been denied, readers glean a different version of events behind the Trojan War epic myth. “Great Achilles. Brilliant Achilles, shining Achilles, godlike Achilles…How the epithets pile up,” Briseis begins. “We never called him any of those things; we called him ‘the butcher’.”

In The Iliad, a poem about the terrible destruction caused by male aggression, the bodies and pretty faces of women are the objects through which men struggle with each other for status. The women are not entirely silent, and goddesses always have plenty to say, but mortal women speak primarily to lament. They grieve for their dead sons, dead fathers, dead husbands and dead protectors; for the city of Troy, soon to fall, and for their own freedom, taken by the victors of war. Andromache pleads with her Trojan husband Hector not to leave her and their infant son to go back to fight Achilles. She has already endured the sack of her home city by Achilles, and seen the slaughter of her father and seven brothers, and the enslavement of her mother. If Hector dies, their child will be hurled from the city walls, Troy will fall and Andromache will be made the concubine of the son of her husband’s killer. Hector knows this, but he insists that his own need to avoid social humiliation as a battle-shirker trumps it all: “I would be ashamed before the Trojan men and women,” he says. He hopes only to be dead before he has to hear her screams.

Barker’s absorbing prose puts the experience of women like Andromache at the heart of the story: the women who survive in slavery when men destroy their cities and kill their fathers, brothers and children. The central character is Briseis, the woman awarded to Achilles, the greatest Greek fighter, after his army sacks one of the towns neighbouring Troy. Agamemnon, the most powerful, although not the bravest, of the Greek warriors – a character whose downright nastiness comes across beautifully in Barker’s telling – has lost his own most recent female acquisition and seizes Briseis from Achilles. Achilles’ vengeful rage against Agamemnon and his own comrades, and the subsequent vast death toll of the Greeks and Trojans, is the central theme of The Iliad.

Homer’s poem ends by foreshadowing the fall of Troy in the death of its greatest fighter, Hector. Barker’s novel begins with the fall of another town: Lyrnessus, Briseis’ home, destroyed by Achilles and his men. We then see that the fall of a city is the end of a story only for the male warriors: some leave triumphant and others lie there dead. For the women, it is the start of new horrors.

Barker’s subject has long been gender relations during conflict, along with the machinations of trauma and memory, so she’s in her element here. Her blood-drenched battle scenes are up there with the best of them, and she shows a keen understanding of the “never-ending cycle of hatred and revenge” fuelling the violence. Her focus, however, is that which takes place off the battlefield, inflicted on the women in the “rape camps.”

Barker keeps the main bones of the Homeric poem in place, supplementing Homer at the end of the story with Euripides. His heartbreaking play The Trojan Women is, like Barker’s novel, a version of the story that shifts our attention from the angry, destructive, quick-footed, short-lived boys to the raped, enslaved, widowed women, who watch their city burn and, if they are lucky, get a moment to bury their slaughtered children and grandchildren before they are taken far away.

One of Barker’s most tear-jerking sequences is lifted straight from Euripides: the teenage daughter of Priam and Hecuba is gagged and killed as a “sacrifice” on the dead Achilles’ tomb, and then Hecuba is presented with the tiny corpse of her dead grandson, a toddler with his skull cracked open. The girl’s gagged mouth and the child’s gaping brains conjure a gruesome twinned image for the silenced voices that should tell of the horror and pity suffered by the victims of war.

For most of Barker’s novel, Briseis is the first-person narrator, but in the final part, the narrative is intercut with third-person chapters told from the point of view of Achilles. We never get as close to Achilles as we do to Briseis, but he is a compelling figure in his fascinating combination of brutality and civility. Like Siegfried Sassoon in Barker’s 1991 novel Regeneration, this Achilles has the soul of a poet as well as of a killer and hunter: he is a man whose physical courage and compulsion to fight sit uneasily with his clear, articulate awareness of the futility of war.

But Achilles, however fascinating he may be, is not then at the centre of this story. Still, the novel does provide a moving, thought-provoking version of what is perhaps the most famous moment of The Iliad: when the old king Priam makes his way, alone and unarmed, through the enemy camp, to plead with Achilles to give back the mutilated body of his son, Hector. Barker twice quotes Priam’s Homeric words to Achilles: “I do what no man before me has ever done, I kiss the hands of the man who killed my son.” Barker lets us feel the pathos and pity of this moment, as well as the pathos of all the many young men who die violent deaths far from home. We glimpse, too, Achilles’ alienation from his own “terrible, man-killing hands”, which have caused so many deaths.

Briseis has a powerful riposte to Priam’s words, weighing this unique encounter between men against the myriad unremembered horrors suffered by women in war. “I do what countless women before me have been forced to do. I spread my legs for the man who killed my husband and my brothers.”

Reduced to objects, they’re catalysts for conflict – Barker’s Helen inspires ribaldry not worship, “The eyes, the hair, the tits, the lips/ That launched a thousand battleships...” chant the soldiers – blamed for inciting hatred between men. Or they’re regarded as the victor’s spoils, claimed along with cattle and gold.

Briseis is both. Taken as a slave, Achilles and Agamemnon then feud over her: “It doesn’t belong to him; he hasn’t earnt it,” fumes the former. Men - Greek and Trojan alike – are afforded the privilege of vocalising their pain and loss, while women have to repress their suffering. “Silence becomes a woman,” they’re told, even when they’re free.

No longer an issue of decorum, now it’s about staying alive. “I do what no man before me has ever done, I kiss the hands of the man who killed my son,” declares Priam when he prostrates himself before Achilles begging for Hector’s body. “And I do what countless women before me have been forced to do, Briseis thinks bitterly, “I spread my legs for the man who killed my husband and my brothers.”

Barker has a very clear feminist message about the struggle for women to extricate themselves from male-dominated narratives. In the hands of a lesser writer, it could have felt preachy and woke but she masterfully avoids that. The attempt to provide Briseis with a happy ending is thin, and sometimes the female characters’ legitimate outrage seems a bit predictable, as when we hear Helen thinking: “I’m here. Me. A person, not just an object to be looked at and fought over.”

The novel has some annoying anachronisms, such as a “weekend market” (there were no weekends in antiquity), and a reference to “half a crown”, as if we were in the same period as Barker’s first world war novels. One wonders if any woman in archaic Greece, even a former queen, would have quite the self-assurance of Barker’s Briseis. But, of course, there is no way to be sure: no words from women in this period survive but Barker is surely right to paint them as thoughtful, diverse, rounded human beings, whose humanity hardly ever dawns on their captors, owners and husbands. This central historical insight feels entirely truthful.

Barker has a quasi-Homeric gift for similes: “that shining moment, when the din of battle fades and your body’s a rod connecting earth and sky”, or Achilles’ friend Patroclus dying, “thrashing like a fish in a pool that’s drying out”. There is a Homeric simplicity and drive in some of the sentences: “Blood, shit and brains – and there he is, the son of Peleus, half beast, half god, driving on to glory.” She is Homeric, too, in her attentiveness to what happens between people, and to the details of the physical world: the food, the wine, the clothes, the noise and the feel of skin, blood, bones, crackling wounds and screams. Barker, like Homer, understands grief and loss, and sees how alone people can be even when they are crying together. Loneliness in community is one of the major themes of this book, as it is of The Iliad.

Angry, thoughtful, sad, deeply humane and compulsively readable, The Silence of the Girls shows that Barker is a writer at the peak of her literary powers. You sense her only priority is to enlarge the story that we all know and she adds to it magnificently.

I have always enjoyed reading Pat Barker especially her enviable experience of writing about military life in her earlier novels and here in this book it shines through in the depiction of the Greek forces. The men are dehumanised by the wars they have created. This is primarily a book about what war does to women, but Barker examines what it does to men too. I was disturbed by the magnificently poignant final section which can’t help but make you reflect on the cultural underpinnings of male aggression, the women throughout history who have been told, by men, to forget their trauma. When Briseis is told to forget her past life, she immediately knows it is exactly what she must not, can not do: “So there was my duty laid out in front of me, as simple and clear as bowl of water: Remember.”

Briseis knows no one will want to record the reality of what went on during the war: “they won’t want the brutal reality of conquest and slavery. They won’t want to be told about the massacres of men and boys, the enslavement of women and girls. They won’t want to know we were living in a rape camp. No, they’ll go for something altogether softer. A love story, perhaps?” But even so, Briseis, for all that she must bear, understands eventually that the women will leave behind a legacy, though not in the same vocal, violent way the men will.

“We’re going to survive,” she says, “our songs, our stories. They’ll never be able to forget us. Decades after the last man who fought at Troy is dead, their sons will remember the songs their Trojan mothers sang to them. We’ll be in their dreams - and in their worst nightmares too.”

I felt disconcerted reading this and also very moved. As much as I love the Classics and firmly believe in it providing the foundational building blocks of our Western civilisation I also have to pause and remind myself that heroic behaviour, something the greatest of the Greeks are known for, isn’t anything admirable when viewed from the lens of the women they abuse. Heroism can be tainted by the dark side of one’s nature. However pure one soldier’s sacrifice for another can be, so there is the bestial side of us where the chains of civilised moral behaviour are unshackled and left to satiate our primal instinct for cruelty, conflict, and domination. Indeed what Barker does is be a much needed corrective because just as you think her perspective of the Greek heroes may be softening, she pulls back to remind you of Odysseus tossing Hector’s baby from the battlements, or Achilles’s casual butchery. “It’s the girls I remember most,” Briseis says. This then is a story about the very real cost of wars waged by men: “the brutal reality of conquest and slavery”.

In seeing a legend differently, Barker makes us rethink who gets to write history but also to remind us of our tainted human condition. There is no god in the machine to sort out most violent conflicts and situations with a thunderbolt here. There are only mortals, with all their flaws and ferocity and foolishness. And we all have to live with that but not I hope in silence.

[bbrandy2002]

The Diary of Riley Brooks

Entry Two

Wacky Drabble #8: Help me with this, would you?

Coincides with TRH Chapter 13

Some strong Language

Characters belong to Pixelberry

Drabbler Tags: @emceesynonymroll @burnsoslow @sirbeepsalot @jovialyouthmusic @romanticatheart-posts @stopforamoment @dcbbw @jessiembruno @katedrakeohd

Additional tags; I have no idea who is on my permanent tags list anymore😬 I didnt exactly keep up with it 😭 I'll do better. So please let me know so I can get that sorted out.

@ao719 @hopefulmoonobject

September 7

I'm having a baby!

As I sit here trying to let that statement fully sink in, I think about where I was just one year ago today.

I had always dreamt of meeting my Prince Charming, never really expecting to find him. Liam made me realize that fairy tales do exist and sometimes wishes do come true. That sounds so cliche, yet, I don't know any other way to describe what we share together.

He is my heartbeat, my every breath, my reason for existing. Our love is built on passion and longing, his touch excites me and his very presence heats my core. Our bodies joined together, whether fierce or gentle, is pure, unadulterated magic. Liam is my warmth and sincerity, my goodness and truth.

In the depths of my belly, I am carrying the greatest symbol of that love, a part of him and a part of me, a tiny creature that will forever bring us joy.

I spent much of the reception, anxious to find out if I was indeed pregnant. As I wrote yesterday, Savannah admitted to taking a pregnancy test, as well. For whatever reason, possibly one I don't want to ever know, she placed her negative test in the bathroom drawer. Due to Madeleine's incompetence and unwanted presence for this event, she, too, put my test in the drawer. Is there some kind of weird Cordonian tradition I am unaware of that says these test work better in drawers? And why did Savannah leave hers in there? The damn thing was negative. In light of his objection, I have a strong feeling, Mr. Chuck knows more than he is letting on.

Freaked the hell out by Savannah, I knew then, I was the one who was pregnant. I needed air and a moment to think, far away from all the yee-haw bullshit. I sent Liam a text, asking him to meet me in a clearing by the house, I had a surprise for him. Within seconds, he approaches me with a flirtatious smile, looking as if he was ready to fuck me six ways from Sunday. I love that man and I'm always more than willing to participate in his freakish, outdoor sex fetish, but, this wasn't what I had in mind.

After I tell him we are a having a baby, he sweeps me up in his arms, gently placing me back to the ground. His happiness was written all over his face, until it wasn't. He went into Liam mode, panicking about the need to baby proof every room at the Palace and Valtoria. As much as I loved his cute response, I wanted tears dammit. I wanted him on his knees, crying his eyes out, unable to talk, worshipping my stomach. Mick Jagger said you can't always get what you want, but, sometimes you get what you need....well, I needed a sobbing, shaking Liam, is that too much to ask?

We discuss when to tell our friends and because I'm a petty, evil bitch, I decide we should tell them right in the middle of Savannah and Bertrand's reception. You propose at my wedding, I announce the equivalent of the second coming, in the form of my sacred child, at yours. I couldn't care less for the rest of the wedding attendees, but, seeing Hana, Drake, Maxwell and Bertrand delight in our news was exciting.

Afterwards, Liam wants to celebrate in private, which means, we might talk some, but, he still has every intention of getting off tonight. We head upstairs and I was correct in my assumption, he wants to celebrate making the baby by doing what we did to make it. He is a wet panty dropper for sure. And while some ride Harley's and horses, I propped my little pregnant ass on my own stallion and rode him hard. If Barthelemy weren't already out of his coma, me screaming Liam's name when I climaxed, would have awakened the old coot for sure.

If my panties weren't already off, after he sang a lullaby to our baby, that for sure would have melted them away. If he keeps this up, we'll have our own 20 Kids and Counting reality show.

I should have stayed in fucking bed this morning. At breakfast, Bertrand greeted us in kind, while Stick-It-In-A-Drawer Savannah, reminded us all that we are not at court. Why is she still here and not on her honeymoon? Then Leona tells me I can't have a cup of coffee....bitch, I was downing shots like no tomorrow just three days ago with Liv and Hana in Auvernal. This queen will drink a cup of coffee if she damn well pleases. My baby is probably going to come out with two heads.

Like the lovable, little genius he is, Maxwell suggests everyone buys the baby a gift. Guess who further suggested we get these gifts from the local country general store? The same damn place that was using a priceless saddle as a fucking hat holder. I can't even write her name anymore. I have to wonder, why I have been playing second fiddle on Hee-Haw Hell to her during this trip.

So the gang and I pack into our vehicle and head back to said store, where I can share with all of Cordonia that the royal crib was purchased at Wild Chester's Gear and Steer on Bootleg Road. I watched Maxwell fawn over socks, Hana recreated painful memories of lonely tea parties, and Drake...well, Drake's little wooden horse was quite adorable.

I get a call from Olivia, who somehow managed to escape earlier from this shithole than I did. I thought we were amigas now Liv? She actually cried when I told her Liam and I were expecting. I don't know what the hell she is doing in my bedroom, but, if Livvie needs something there, I'm more than happy to help a girl out. She asked me for the most valuable thing in my room, I lied to her and told her it was the royal sceptre. If she only knew the value of the dildo I had in my nightstand....that better be exactly where I left it when I get back.

Back at the ranch, Liam says the five most beautiful, glorious words I have been waiting to here for weeks.....We're almost ready to go....Hot Damn!

Bianca asked me if I thought I could get away without saying goodbye...I already knew the answer was, no. If she only knew how hard I tried about twenty times since arriving to cut tail and run. And damn that heartless, nazi, Leona, she for real dissed my husband! Bitch, I will snap you in half over Liam.

Just when I think I'm finally in the clear, who in the blue fuck put me on a plane for the next 10 hours with Frick, Frack and Kiara?

Liam, I love you, but, damn you! I'm nauseous, tired, moody, and pissing buckets every 10 minutes, carrying your child, and you thought this was a good idea.

I blame pregnancy brain for my decision to tell these three our big news. I'm not the greatest at charades, Im not even the smartest person in the world, but, I swear to God, these three may quite possibly be the dumbest morons I have ever met. They guessed I was full, I was bloated, gluttony.....fucking gluttony???? Yes Penelope, the big news I wanted to share with you is I'm a glutton. Maybe a glutton for punishment, deciding to interact with you three. More guesses included, American Football, and a common pirate jig....one of these women is an ambassador and the other my communications director. I'm a waitress from Brooklyn, and my word, I'm truly baffled by the sheer stupididy I had just witnessed. I turned to Liam, pleading with my eyes, help me with this, would you?

As bad as those three were, out of no where, the most incompetant, security guard on this planet, appears right before me. I didn't have time to worry about her, because apparently, the bane of my existence just scheduled a press conference to announce my pregnancy. I haven't seen a doctor to even confirm yet, what the hell Madeleine. One of these days, I am gonna beat that green goblin's ass down.

Cordonia, I'm on my way and can't be there soon enough.

Riley

[ownworldresident]

Side by Side. Chapter 15: Pick Your Battles

Premise: King Liam x Rayne (MC): With new additions to their family, Rayne and  Liam are forced to re-evaluate their relationship.

Disclaimer: Most  characters are the property of Pixelberry studios. I am just borrowing them and will return them when I am done, some less traumatised than others.

Themes: found family, hurt/comfort, angst

MASTERLIST

Side by Side Masterlist

Chapter Fifteen: Pick Your Battles

“I want to marry you.”

The room, empty but for the two of them, fell quieter after Liam spoke. Rayne wrapped her arms around herself as she considered her answer. Finally, she nodded, and Liam exhaled. He stood and approached her, but her arms stayed tight against her chest. “All I ever wanted was you,” Liam continued softly, lifting a hand to graze over her cheek, “however I could. Having you with me in this life is truly a gift and I am thankful for every breath I take by your side.” He sighed. “I am telling you this so you know it, not to sway you.”

“I know.” Rayne offered the slightest smile, then turned and moved away from him through the parlour. This was one of her favourite rooms in the palace, and she hoped it wouldn’t be tainted if this conversation ended badly. “Thank you for telling me,” she said, lowering her arms to fiddle with the dried flowers in a tabletop vase, “I’ll admit that it scares me. Part of me is afraid of what will happen when this happens, and to everyone except me it seems inevitable.”

“And the other part?” Liam prompted after a few empty moments. Several feet away, Rayne dropped her arms and turned back. Her tone grew sharper.

“The other part of me is angry. No matter what I do or say, no one hesitates to second guess my judgement. Even my friend accused me of lacking in self-respect.” Rayne’s nails pressed against her palms as her hands balled into fists. “I could ignore it because I knew you were never going to ask me, and I could pretend that it wasn’t only my will that kept them all at bay. I pretended that everything was okay, just like you did with Madeleine, even though it wasn’t.”

“I know what I’m capable of, Liam. I know what I can do.” Rayne blinked back tears; she had said this to herself so many times, but the only time they heard it was when they spoke behind her back. “I left it, and you never asked, and it was comfortable. I was safe, but they…” She gestured toward the door, “didn’t believe that, did they.”

Her arms relaxed and she clasped her hands before her, watching Liam’s patient observation as he chose his words.

“They have a habit of being right,” he said hesitantly, “I suppose we should be grateful to them.”

“To an extent, maybe.” Rayne swallowed hard and rubbed the back of her neck. “It doesn’t change the fact that you just broke our agreement. I know you said you weren’t trying to sway me, but both of us have been backed into corners.”

“Not entirely true, and I told you, almost a year ago now, that I wouldn’t pretend to know your reasons.” Liam stepped closer. “But I would respect them, and I do. I have to ask you to consider, though. If your duty to your kingdom transcended that which was to yourself; if you were raised to exhibit stability and security over desire or even love, would you serve your people, or prioritise the latter?” He stepped closer again and offered his hands to take hers. Rayne stared at them, then her brow furrowed as she met Liam’s gaze.

“I would find a compromise,” she stated matter-of-factly. It was the most logical decision to make, if not the easiest to execute.

“Something I have considered.” Liam nodded, and reached out to hold Rayne’s hands. “but a compromise doesn’t mean forgetting the part you least anticipate.”

The logic of Liam’s argument was well-founded, but this wasn’t even a discussion. Liam squeezed her hands and she returned the gentle pressure before answering.

“It seems we have reached an impasse, then,” she said.

“Indeed.” A soft spark in Liam’s eye matched his rueful smile. “Thank you for allowing me to express my thoughts.”

“Of course.” Rayne’s small smile quickly faded. “This can’t affect the trial.”

“It won’t.” Liam squeezed her hands again. “Nor can it affect Leo and Evie. We can pick up our discussion when things have settled.”

--

Genevieve wore her day clothes into court, much more at home in quality linen than standard cotton. She entered calmly, though from the stand Rayne observed the delicate flush in her cheeks and the way she tried not to wring her hands together. Liam waited until she had recited an oath to be truthful and was seated before he continued.

“Thank you for your cooperation, Ms. O’Mara,” he began, “we’ll begin with basic questions, and if you feel the need to make a short statement to the court, you are welcome to do so following those.”

“Thank you, King Liam.” Gen lifted her chin to him, her eyes flicking over to where Rayne sat with Leo and Regina. She kept her mother’s gaze until Gen looked away. “Genevieve is perfectly fine, though.”

Now that they had a crowd, Rayne watched Gen’s professional persona come online. She could be very charismatic when she wanted to be, and Rayne was glad that the judge was Liam.

“Good. Now. Have you been in contact with Countess Madeleine before or since your arrival in Cordonia this month?”

Gen nodded. “I was put in touch with her a few months ago.”

“And was the objective to transfer custody of Crown Prince Leo Rhys and Princess Evelyn Rhys from Lady Rayne and myself to the Countess?”

“It was.” At her words there was a collective intake of breath from the crowd. A hand rested on Rayne’s trembling one and squeezed it, and when she turned to see Leo looking at her with concern, she realised how rigid her posture was. A massage wouldn’t go astray. Rayne smiled gratefully and Leo continued to hold her hand in both of his.

“And did you arrange for me to sign over custody?”

Looking across to the other group at the top of the room, Rayne caught her friend’s eye. Clair smirked, giving her a thumbs up and a wink before returning rapt attention to the trial.

“I did.” Gen looked away, and her voice sounded resigned. “I organised to deliver a drug to you through an assistant in my employ. I had them coerce you into signing the form while you were in a suggestible state, which Madeleine then took to a council meeting I believe while you remained unconscious in your room.”

“In his room…” Leo whispered, leaning close to Rayne’s ear, “didn’t you find him in his office?”

Rayne nodded, eyes still on Gen.

“I see.” Liam looked at the notes in front of him, but from the depth of his frown Rayne knew he wasn’t reading them. The room was silent, all eyes on the king, as he measured his next words. Minutes seemed to pass, and Rayne felt sweat on her palms, holding in a breath. His gaze flicked to Rayne’s for barely a moment, an apology in them that ran deep. She swallowed hard and kept her face impassive.

“I have one more question for you, before we adjourn.” Liam’s piercing focus travelled to the woman he questioned. His voice deep and even, he asked, “what prompted you to take part in this?”

Nobody in the room moved a muscle as Gen closed her eyes, smoothed her clothes, then lifted her chin. Rayne had played this game long enough to know a fake sorrow from a true one. She had seen a similar one in her own mirror before; the expression was genuinely strained. Her mother locked eyes with her.

“I wanted… all I ever wanted… is to have my daughter back.”

--

The winter would arrive for them soon, but for now autumn was warm; perfect for a day away from the palace. Liam offered a hand to Rayne as she stepped out of the car, then circled to the opposite passenger side to unbuckle Evie as Rayne did the same for Leo. He handed a thick blanket to Rayne and pulled out a basket, leaning in for a brief kiss before they left the car and entered the woods.

“Do you remember the way?” asked Rayne. Liam kept her pace, an easy smile on his face as they walked through dappled shade beneath rusty, swaying leaves.

“Yes.” He turned to see the same smooth, calm expression on Rayne’s face as she smiled back at him.

“Good.”

They didn’t walk much further to reach the clearing they visited most often. An almost flat area near the edge was large enough to lay out their blanket and shaded enough to sit in for hours. Soon enough they could relax back, and with a contented sigh he lay on his back and rested Evie on his chest.

“Hey beautiful girl,” he cooed, “welcome to our favourite place.” He looped his fingers in her fists and she applied some pressure as she squeezed them, lifting her head to watch him. Liam moved his fingers in small circles, and Evie wriggled her arms as she followed, smiling widely. He glanced at Rayne, who beamed at them. “She has your smile.”

“They’re getting stronger.” Rayne looked down at Leo, who watched the swaying trees above them, mouth slightly ajar. Liam watched her run two fingers down his cheek, and his heart swelled at the pure love on her face as she did. Evie rested her chin on his chest and brought back his attention, resuming the gentle motions.

After some time they opened the picnic basket and pulled out lunch for him and Rayne and toys for the twins, who were settled on softer blankets beside each other. Liam looped an arm around Rayne’s waist and pulled her closer, kissing her sweetly when she turned her head to him, then leaning his forehead against hers.

“I love you,” he said softly.

“I love you more.” Rayne smirked as she pulled back and reached for the sandwiches and handed one to him.

“I don’t think that’s possible.” He smiled and accepted the food.

Rayne braced both hands behind her and arched her back and neck in a deep stretch, smiling at the leafy canopy. Her smile faltered when she straightened, and for a moment she was tense again, then she sighed and reached for her sandwich, her smile a little subdued.

Not until they were repacking the basket did she reveal what was bothering her.

“I think…” She reached for discarded toys, then paused with them in hand and turned to him. “I think that Gen is lying.”

Liam watched her carefully and kept his answer even. “Are you sure?”

“Not completely.” Rayne placed the toys in the basket and closed the lid. “But the way she answered those questions… complete shift from her interview in New York, and she has no reason to confess so much, so succinctly. Her whole career is built on half truths, after all.”

“I see.” Liam stood and moved the basket out of the way. “So how do you think we can be certain? We can question her again, but if I ask the same questions, we will get the same answers,” he said as he helped Rayne to her feet.

“Clair will be looking into her, I assume, after that conversation.” Rayne winced. “I haven’t seen much of her since then.”

Liam squeezed her shoulder, then “She is.”

“Good. I hope Clair will be fair, but she has had a very understandable vendetta against Gen since we met, and I’m not sure she would care if there was any evidence against this.” Rayne sighed. “You know my relationship, or lack of, with Gen. I wouldn’t be suggesting it if I didn’t think we were accusing the wrong person.”

“Alright.” Liam lifted Leo from his blanket and held him against his shoulder as Rayne did the same for Evie. “We can talk about it when we get home. Come up with a plan.”

He nodded in agreement, and they started back to the car.

--

Unenthused by his task, Liam strode down flights of stairs to the opposite wing of the palace. He had been here a few times during the social season and afterward to see Rayne, but not since she had moved to the royal wing. Most of year these rooms were nearly all empty, which was useful, because it drew less attention to the one with a permanent guard stationed outside.

“Your Majesty.” The two uniformed guards spoke in unison and bowed to him. He nodded to acknowledge them, then knocked twice and opened the door to a modest, light room.

“Nice of you to grace my presence, Liam,” came a voice from the corner. The angle of the windows placed her in shadow, but as he focused, he saw his ex-wife seated as a small desk, writing what looked like a letter.

“Madeleine.” Liam nodded. “I need to ask you a few questions.”

Madeleine stood, placed the lid back on her pen, and laced her fingers together in front of her. The cunning smile she had had since he had known her was fast in place.

“Why would I answer them?”

“Because I am still your king, and because they may lessen your sentence.” Liam waited as Madeleine pursed her lips and lifted her chin, and he watched her consider the answer.

“How is my estate?” she countered.

“You aren’t in a position to be questioning me. But…” A plan formed in his mind and he gave a half smile. “Quid pro quo. I will tell you of your affairs, and you will answer my questions. One for one.”

“Deal. You first.” She didn’t move a muscle as she watched him, a practised stoicism that he had always associated with hiding something.

“Fydelia is being overseen by your mother and major-domo while the trial is running.”

Madeleine scowled, then exhaled. “I see. And your question?”

“How did you first contact Genevieve?”

“Ah.” She glanced at the desk beside her, then to him again. “I spoke to her assistant, two weeks before her arrival.”

Keeping his face impassive, Liam stepped further into the room. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“And how did you contact her while she was here?”

“My question, I believe.” She waited for his nod, then continued. “Who is running my conference next week?”

“I am.” Liam wanted to add that the conference seemed an unnecessary formality, but he hadn’t come here for that discussion. “And my question?”

“I see.” She shrugged. “I’ve had no contact with her. She was given a brief in the initial contact and acted independently since then.”

“You’re certain?”

“Absolutely. I’m surprised she decided on drugging you. Much too melodramatic, but I suppose subtlety isn’t an American trait. Poisoning a monarch is such a cliché.” Madeleine’s eyes were near the ceiling, but she was far from focused on that. She was waiting for him to bite back, as he had before.

“Did you have another question?” He asked instead, regaining her attention.

“What do the press know about the trial?” she said immediately.

“Only that you’re in it, and that they’ll get statements and minutes once it’s over. I have one more question.”

“Make it a good one, then.” Madeleine smirked, crossing her arms expectantly and raising an eyebrow. It didn’t quite mask her discomfort.

“Why did you use Rayne’s mother?”

When she didn’t respond immediately, the credence there was more involved unfolded in Liam’s mind. Madeleine took a long, deep breath, giving her time to calculate.

“A recognisable figure even in this country. Her association with her daughter discredits Rayne’s ‘family’ image.” She turned back and Liam’s jaw tightened. That reasoning he could believe. Facing him again, she fiddled with the pen now in her hand.

“You underestimate her again, Madeleine.” Liam turned back to the door and reached for the handle.

“I believe you owe me one more question.”

Gripping the doorknob, Liam shook his head. “Later, perhaps,” he said to the door as he opened it. Pausing in the doorway, he glanced back at her impassive expression, but nothing compelled him to be grateful, so he left.

--

Three hard knocks on the heavy wooden door woke him effectively. Grumbling at the wake-up call, Drake rubbed his eyes, pulled on some jeans, and stumbled to the door. He ripped it open.

“What?” He all but shouted in their face, blinking in the lighter hallway to refocus, and finding Leo’s smirk too unphased for his liking. A snort behind him brought Olivia into focus, rolling her eyes and standing behind Leo.

“You need to come with me,” Leo stated. As soon as he spoke, he turned and started down the hall. Drake didn’t move.

“I’m busy, and why the hell would I go with you?”

Leo glanced at Olivia, then looked uneasily at him. “It’s important. I’ll explain when we get there.”

“You’ll fucking explain now, Rhys, or you can piss off without me.” Drake scowled, ignoring Olivia’s judgement, then rubbed his face again.

“Look…” Leo paused, then faced him again, shifting his weight uneasily. “It’s about the trial. We need to speak to Liam and Rayne; we need to do that asap.”

Olivia followed Leo, leaving Drake to absorb both the words and the urgency, then exhaled loudly. Grabbing the closest shirt from the ground, he shut his door and started groggily after them, pulling on his t-shirt as he went.

As they walked through the palace, Drake became more aware of the details of his surroundings. Still fine with following Leo, he noticed how unkempt the man’s outfit was, and laughed when he realised why.

“You finally slept with her, huh?”

Leo turned his head to wink at them. “Told you it wouldn’t take long.”

“Rayne’s gonna kill you, Leo.” Olivia shared a knowing look with Drake, then looked forward again, “That will be interesting to watch.”

“I doubt it.” Leo shook his head as they reached Rayne’s apartments. He knocked and turned back to them. “Well, she might try, but that depends on where she’s placing her trust right now.”

“What?”

Leo managed half a rueful smile before the door opened and Liam appeared.

“Morning, little brother.”

“Uh… good morning…” Liam replied, looking past his brother to Drake and Olivia. Drake shrugged. “What are the three of you here so early for?”

“I have no fucking idea why.” Drake nodded to Leo, scowling. “Bastard woke me up.”

“Pull it together, Walker.” Olivia rammed his side with an elbow. He swore. “Stop acting like a child.”

Confused, Liam turned back to Leo, who continued. “We need to talk. Can we come inside?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Liam nodded, and stepped back to let them in. Drake looked around as they entered to see if the others were there but found it empty.

“Rayne will be out in a moment. Do we need her as well?”

Leo sighed. “Yes.” He raked both hands through his hair and stopped in the middle of the room. Liam nodded, and disappeared up the hall to their room. The three of them stood awkwardly in the quiet, sunlit room as they waited for the others, finding armchair arms to perch on. A few minutes later, Liam returned with Rayne, who was drying her hair with a towel.

“What’s going on?” she asked, glancing between each of them. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s about the trial, apparently.” Olivia spoke in a bored tone, but Drake heard the curiosity run beneath.

“I should call Clair,” Rayne looked around for her phone, “she’ll want to hear it, then.”

“No, don’t.” Leo bit his lip as he looked at her and Drake rolled his eyes. “She’s probably still sleeping.”

Rayne stared at him, and Drake shared a glance with Olivia as they waited for the drama.

“Leo…” Rayne started, then shook her head, “she’s in your room, isn’t she?”

“Sure is.” Leo grinned, “and her stamina isn’t what I had hoped, so she’ll be there a while, but that’s beside the point.”

“You know there is a point where detail becomes too much information, right Leo?” Drake stretched and raised an eyebrow at the man, who shrugged.

“It’s never stopped him before,” said Liam, “but setting that aside, why are you here?”

They were interrupted by a gurgled laugh from the corner of the room. Drake hadn’t even noticed the set up for each of the twins there, with hanging toys above them that they grabbed at with lopsided smiles. He looked back in time to see the warm smiles on their parents’ faces before the two focused on the conversation again.

“We need to check the security footage again,” said Leo, bringing the mood back to business.

“Of the study?” asked Rayne, “we’ve checked it a dozen times.”

“But we never got an exact identity from whoever drugged Liam…” Drake crossed his arms and frowned, sitting straight on the armrest. “Why would you check it another time?”

“He’s found something else to direct the search.” Olivia tilted her head as Leo nodded. “Nice going, Rhys.”

“I have a possible name,” he said, then turned to the others, settling on Rayne, who stood closest. “I really hope I’m wrong.”

--

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[theavengerfairy]

One Step Closer - Chapter 4

Previously known as “Gravity”

Aaravos adored games, especially when those games involved real risks and consequences. Every sparkling fiber of his being would vibrate with excitement as he carefully ushered each pawn into place to create a grand masterpiece that he alone could see unfolding. At times, one of those pawns might start to shift out of alignment, operating of its own accord instead of by the will of its master, but it never took more than a few polished half-truths to lure the insurgent back into place. Patience was the key to success, and if being imprisoned for longer than he cared to calculate had taught him anything, it was patience.

Things may have seemed placid in Viren's cell, but as his grub-like vassal clung to the shell of the mage's ear, Aaravos sensed that the castle was still abuzz even at this late hour. He could feel the reverberations of marching feet through the stone floor and walls, and he could faintly hear the whispering of a gentle wind overtop of Viren's muffled snores. Most importantly, however, he could sense the baleful nip tainting the air as something wicked steadily closed in on the dungeon where it sensed its master's presence.

"It would seem that your phantoms have returned." he crooned smoothly, fully aware that Viren could not hear him from the realm of dreams. "Do not fret. I will take care of everything."

Peeling itself off of Viren's ear, the little caterpillar inched its way across the mage's cot and then up the cell wall until he reached the grate in the ceiling. After wiggling through with ease, it only had to wait a moment or so in the deserted courtyard above before being blanketed in shadow as four pairs of blank, glowing, purple-tinged eyes peered down at it from within towers of churning smoke that vaguely resembled the shape of elves. To anyone else, these creatures of shadow would've been terrifying, but the little caterpillar raised itself up and stared right back at them with an air of haughtiness.

"Your master is resting, but it is not yet time for you to do the same. You still have work to do." Aaravos crooned without a hint of hesitance even though the phantoms could easily trample the caterpillar beneath their heels if they wished too. Why? Even though they could, he knew that they wouldn't, for just like the mage who had summoned them, they were also drawn to the power emanating off of him.

"Your master's possessions have been scattered across the land in an attempt to control him, and one of these relics could be your and his undoing. Bring back the coin in which your leader is imprisoned, the leader who in his pride led you all to your deaths, and you will soon have your rest."

Though their faces showed no expression as the shadows continued to listlessly sway back and forth in the wind, Aaravos could sense their reluctance. It seemed even as phantoms, traces of past loyalties and autonomous thought still lived on inside them; this, however, was not a major problem for him.

"Why do you hesitate? Does it not anger you that the one responsible for your demise now has a chance to return home to the open arms of his family while yours grieve your loss? He made the call to move forward with your mission knowing full well that your chances of survival were slim, and now he simply gets to walk away from that while your blood, the blood of those who trusted him, stains the floors of this palace? Should he not suffer a fate worse than death?"

One by one, a change swept over each ghost, their eyes glowing brighter as their previous uncertainty was burned up by the flames of bitterness; it was a light and a heat that Aaravos never grew tired off as he drank it in again and again.

"Go. Find your leader's coin and its brothers. Justice will not be denied."

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

"Can I skewer him?"

"No."

"What about mildly maim him?"

"No."

"...Can I at least give him a bad enough gash that he'll need stitches?"

"No! The last thing we need to do is draw attention to ourselves by being petty and starting a fight."

"He kidnapped Callum and Maddie!"

"And we are going to discreetly get them back. We fight only as a last resort."

"Ugh, fine!"

It wasn't that Anora couldn't understand Rayla's desire for payback, but retribution never just ended once the scores were even. Having to worry about a vengeful party pursuing them would only further complicate their already complex quest, so for now retaliation, though tempting, was not an option.

It hadn't exactly taken the two elves long to realize that something was wrong, but true to the stories Madeleine had told Anora about Midan, the blacksmith's son indeed proved to be a slippery serpent to catch. Despite managing to procure adequate disguises and sneak into town fairly quickly, Midan was already gone by the time they found the shop and discovered the note that Madeleine had managed to tuck amongst the tools in the back room without getting caught. The fact that they had to ask around about the location of the artisans' fair before finding someone that actually knew only added further to Midan's head start, and while Anora and Rayla probably could have caught up with him if they were on their own, Zym's restlessness meant making occasional stops during their journey, thus allowing the scoundrel to remain one step ahead of them.

By the time they arrived at the fairgrounds, the festivities were already in full swing with more humans crowding around exhibits and mingling between stalls than either elf had seen in her whole life. From this resulted their current situation of hiding in a dense thicket of shrubs not too far off from the line of tents, Rayla keeping watch while Anora attempted to coax Zym into a basket that the younger elf had "borrowed" from the back of an unwatched cart.

"It's only for a little bit, cutie, I promise. Come on! You want another treat?" Grabbing one of the fresh figs from the rations in her bag, Anora placed it inside the basket. "There, now you've got a fig, an apple, some berries, and some milkfruit, a feast fit for a prince. What do ya say, Zym?"

After a moment of thinking as critically as a baby dragon could, Zym tentatively sniffed the mouth of the basket before apparently being won over as he hoped inside with a happy trill. Once she had secured the lid of the basket in place and carefully shrugged the case onto her back, Anora fixed her hood and cloak and stuffed her hands into her gloves, Rayla following suit.

"I still don't see why we can't just split up and meet back here. We'll cover more ground that way." Rayla grumbled as she fiddled with the pink finger of her gloves that had been stuffed with leaves and a twig to mimic a fifth finger. A surprised sputter sprayed from her lips when Anora suddenly appeared in front of her and began smudging dirt over her markings to complete her disguise.

"Midan is smart. If he notices the same two hooded figures frequenting his booth, he might become suspicious, and the longer we're here, the higher our chances of getting caught become. We need to find them, come up with a plan, execute it, and then leave as quickly and quietly as possible." With her and Rayla's tattoos concealed beneath a layer of grime, Anora briskly exited the safety of the shrubs and beckoned Rayla to follow her with a small jerk of her head. "Come on!"

Zym thankfully stayed contently quiet in the basket as the girls crept past the outermost tents and into the fray, heads down and senses alert. After passing several stalls from all of which the heavenly smell of baked goods wafted, it dawned on them that the booths were probably arranged according to trade, meaning they would not have to scour the entire grounds so long as they found the designated area for the blacksmiths. The density of the crowds and the scarcity of maps or directional signs to promote more sales as s wandered aimlessly about ensured that their task remained somewhat difficult, but the smell of burning timber and the ringing of many mallets hammering away at different metals eventually drew them to the right place. As the fourth stall on their left came into view, Rayla was the first to catch a glimpse of those familiar green eyes beneath that mop of fluffy, brown hair, and it didn't take long for them to lock back onto her.

Callum pretended not to notice the two elves until they had crossed over to the stall, and he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling as he made his way over to the booth's counter as casually as he could. Casting an apprehensive glance back at Midan, who was busy chatting with two reasonably attractive dames at the other end of the stand, he made sure to grab a few odd bits and baubles as he went.

"Hi ladies! What can I help you with?!" he announced quite loudly, depositing the knickknacks onto the counter with a harsh clamor, and to his relief, Midan didn't even spare him a look of disdain. Picking up one of the miscellaneous trinkets scattered in front of him, he held it out as if showing it to the two elves, his voice dropped to a whisper as he leaned over the countertop. "I can't talk long without Midan becoming suspicious. Where's Zym?"

Rayla jerked her head toward the basket while Anora took the trinket from Callum and turned it over in her palm. "Are you alright? Where's Maddie?"

"She's in the back and we're both fine other than being a little tired. In fact, she's been tinkering with something since our arrival last night that she believes will distract Midan long enough for us to slip away."

Pride dressed Anora's lips with a lustrous shimmer like the most beautiful of rouges. "Why am I not surprised? Is there anything that we can do to help?"

"There's one more thing that we need but haven't been able to get since we're constantly being watched."

"What do you need?"

"Wildflowers. Lots of 'em."

Rayla's nose wrinkled at the absurd request. "Flowers? What are flowers going to do?"

"He's allergic." Anora muttered, nodding at Midan as theories about Maddie's plan began to take form in her mind. "He obviously can't see us giving them to you."

"Bring them to the back of the tent and toss a rock through the back entrance to let Maddie know that you've made the dropoff. She'll tell you the rest of the plan, and I'll do what I can to keep Midan busy in the meantime."

Rayla groaned under her breath. "Don't do anything stupid."

"Why do you always assume that I'm going to do something stupid?"

"Because you usually do something stupid!"

"You two are cute, but let's save the flirting for a less precarious time, yeah?" Out of the corner of her eye, Anora noticed the two maidens who had been preoccupying Midan's attention were departing, meaning that the louse would be on them in moments if she and Rayla stuck around for too much longer. Setting the trinket that she was still holding back down on the counter, she extended her hand to Callum, who shook it as soon as he realized what she was doing.

"Don't push yourself too hard. You'll need whatever energy you have left for hightailing out of here."

Callum's eyes remained locked with Rayla's until she and Anora were swallowed up by the throng of festival patrons. Gathering up the samples that he had brought out, he spun on his heels and beelined for the curtains separating the front of the tent from the workspace in back. However, just before he could cross the threshold and disappear, he was yanked to a stop by Midan's hand firmly clamping down on his shoulder.

"Don't tell me you spent all that time talking to those two clients and didn't sell anything?"

Callum swallowed thickly to push down the anxious butterflies fluttering in the back of his throat. "They...They said that they had some other errands to run first and would come back if they had the money."

"Let me handle the transaction when they return. I want to make sure that the payment is...authentic given their haggard appearance. Business is going to slow down as the crowds congregate at the indoor attractions to escape the heat of the day, so go wash off and polish those samples. I trust the cleanliness of those bums as much as their money."

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

The sun hung just above the tops of the tents on the far west side of the festival grounds, painting everything with a golden glow.

"Blasted sun. No matter where I stand, it's shining in my eyes." Midan grumbled sourly, shielding his face with his hand as he stumbled about half-blind. "Clem!"

"Um, it's Callum."

"Whatever. Go scrounge around in the back and see if you can find anything to block out that darn sun!"

"Uh, you got it!"

As Callum slipped through the curtains in the back room, Madeleine raised her head from the two small metal tubes sitting in her lap and locked eyes with him. At his nod, she rose, handing him one of the cylinders and held the other to her chest as she left her comrade to gather both their things.

"Midan?" She winced as she poked her head through the doorway right into a particularly bright ray of sunlight.

"Why aren't you working?"

"I'm waiting for the last order to cool down enough so I can polish it." Raising one hand to shield her face while blinking rapidly to quell the tears that welled to defend her eyes from the bright assault, Maddie just barely made out the Midan's silhouette and strode over to him. "I just wanted to talk to you about an idea I had for a new product."

"You're being unusually considerate. You heatsick or something?"

"No. You and I may not like each other, but your dad is still my business partner. He's going to need all the extra cash that he can get for his medical expenses, right?"

"Touché. Tell me what you've got."

"I can do better than that. I built a prototype during my lunch break!" Tucking the braided cord attached to the bottom of the tube beneath her thumb to hide it from sight, Maddie held out the gadget for Midan to see. "I haven't decided on an official name yet, but for now I'm calling them celebration starters!"

Midan squinted at the cylinder. "...It's an embellished pipe."

"Wrong! It's much more than that!"

"Is that so? How does it work then, little genius?"

"Like this!"

Without missing a beat, Madeleine pulled the string attached to the celebration starter as far as it would go and then released it, aiming the barrel directly at Midan's face. Wildflowers of all colors shot into the air with a pop, and the noise was soon followed by three others just like it as more flowers filled the air. The festival-goers all gasped in delight as the fragrant petals rained down on them, but Midan's reddening eyes had bugged out in horror.

"You little-" His exclamation was cut off by a thunderous sneeze, Madeleine springing just beyond the reach of his fingers when he made a mad grab from her.

As much as she would've liked to stick around and relish over her fine work, Maddie speedily vaulted herself over the counter and sprinted into the crowd. Catching a flicker of Callum's scarlet scarf in the evening light somewhere off to her right, she veered off in that direction, focusing all of her strength into her legs until she had caught up with him, and together they ran towards the chosen meeting place: the eastern entrance of the grounds. Their feet had already begun to burn like they were running over a bed of hot coals by the time the pillars decorated with many colorful banners and other ornaments rose into few, and just as they flung themselves down at the base of the one columns in order to catch their breath, Anora and Rayla burst forth from the sea of people, panting heavily as they refused to slow even slightly.

"Get up! We gotta go!" the latter shouted, eyes wide and frantic.

Before Callum could ask what was wrong, the crowd parted for a portly man with a crimson face marred by an angry scowl as he charged after the two elves with his son and daughter flanking him.

"Thieves! Thieves!" he bellowed.

Anora grabbed Callum and Maddie by their arms and more or less dragged them to their feet while Rayla continued to run, her fist pressed against her chest as something glittered inside. The prince's mouth hung agape, his eyes darting from his friends to their pursuers.

"What did you guys do?!"

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

Moments earlier...

It was a beautiful sight that Anora would've liked to enjoy, the flower petals dancing through the air like snow after being launched from Madeleine's invention, but she and Rayla dutifully slipped the now empty gadgets into their belts and ducked behind a wall of stalls. Keeping their heads down and bodies low to the ground, they zipped along their predetermined course completely unnoticed aside from catching the attention of the occasional small child who was quickly shushed by a preoccupied parent, and the steady sinking of the sun created many long shadows that stretched out to offer them additional cover. However, it soon became apparent that they had forgotten to consider one particular detail when it came to their seemingly seamless plan: Zym.

Having been startled out of a deep nap by the loud pops of the celebration starters, Zym clawed quite furiously at the lid of the basket, and with a few good swipes, he managed to tear a hole just large enough for him to wiggle out of. His little feet scarcely touched Anora's back before he unfurled his wings and sprang into the air, giving neither elf much time to react as he glided through the air and scampered through the back entryway of a large, deep indigo tent as soon as he touched the ground.

When their minds finally processed what had just happened, Rayla and Anora dug their heels into the dirt and swerved in the direction of the tent, halting just a few inches shy of the opening in the wall of cloth.

"Zym! Come back here! You can't be in there!" Rayla called as she peered into the darkness, searching for any sign of white down or icy blue scales that should've stuck out like a sore thumb against the shadows of the tent. All she was met with was a soft, anxious whine from the dragonling, the origin of which she couldn't quite pinpoint.

"I don't think he's coming out on his own," Anora muttered, sliding the basket off of her back. Taking the lavender scarf that hung around her waist and laying it out flat on the ground, she placed the busted lid on top of it and wrapped it in the soft but fairly sturdy material, tightly tying the ends to ensure that it didn't come loose. Tucking the lid under her arm, she handed the barrel of the basket to Rayla. "I'll try herding him back towards you, but you'll need to be completely silent if we don't want him to bolt. Think you can do that, Moondrop?"

"...You're kidding, right?"

"I know, I know. I'm just trying to lighten the mood."

Hearts hammering against their ribs, they slunk into the belly of the pavilion, their soft, careful footsteps sounding more like the stomping of elephants to their own ears. When their eyes adjusted to the dimness, they found that the inside was mostly filled with an array of colorful tapestries decorated with what had to be the most degrading depictions of different kinds of elves that either girl had ever seen. Towards the center of the room stood three ornately carved, wooden pedestals topped with soft pillows, and above each one hung a series of banners that could just barely be read from where they stood if they squinted.

"...Haunted Coins from Xadia?" Rayla scoffed with blatant disgust, "Are you serious?! We don't even have haunted coins! Who would actually believe this nonsense?!"

"You'd be surprised," Anora remarked absent-mindedly, having already dismissed the laughable exhibit and resumed her scouring for the baby dragon. As soon as she noticed a pale shape crouching behind the base of pillar closest to them, she pointed it out to Rayla followed by drawing two arcs in the air that eventually met at a point in front of her. Rayla immediately understood and began to close in on the pillar from the left while Anora took to the right.

"Zym," she called when she was close enough to see the tip of the dragonling's nose poking out from behind the pillar. "I know you're a bit spooked right now, but we have to go before we get caught. There will be no more loud, scary noises, I promise."

Zym's answer was a shrill, suspicious yip, nostrils flaring slightly when Anora entered his line of sight. Slowly dropping down into a crouch, the elf held her hand out to him as she inched closer, not daring to glance at Rayla to ensure she was ready and risk Zym realizing what they were up to. Fortunately, Zym's attention remained fixated on Anora as he shuffled his feet uncertainly while Rayla tiptoed up behind him, basket held out in front of her. They had him cornered, and when Anora lunged forward, Zym spun on his heels and fled straight towards the mouth of the basket. At the last moment, however, he spread his wings and splayed out his little limbs, his front claws grabbing onto the rim, and using the edge as a foothold, he propelled himself upward at a slight angle. Anora leaped into the air before he could get very high, wrapping her arms around the prince's middle and pulling him to her chest. Unfortunately, she hadn't paid much thought to her trajectory in her haste, and thus she came crashing down on top of the pedestal, which proved to be much flimsier than it looked as it crumbled beneath her weight.

"Yep, that's definitely going to leave a mark." she groaned, rolling onto her side and then up into a sitting position all while Zym flailed in her arms. Rayla was by her side in the blink of an eye where she held the basket steady so Anora could place Zym inside.

"He's a little fighter; I suppose that's a good thing though." the Oceancry elf remarked as she secured the lid once more and slipped her arm through one of the vessel's straps, hoisting it up onto her back again. Shifting onto her knees so she could stand back up, she jerked to a stop when something resting on the bed of splinters beneath her snagged her eye.

"Rayla...you said Xadia doesn't have any haunted coins, right? Then why does that one have a moving face on it?"

"You mean your reflection? Besides, that isn't even a Xadian coin..."

"Rayla?"

The color drained from Rayla's already pale face and her eyes widened to the size of two full moons as she stooped down, unable to believe what she saw. Staring back at her was a face she knew all too well despite being clouded with a fear that she had never seen adorning those features before, and as she gently scooped the coin into her trembling hand, she watched the terror melt away and sheer relief rise up in its place.

"Runaan..." she whimpered, hand clamped over her mouth as she fought back the urge to break into tears. Suddenly, it felt very hard to breathe, as if the weight of the entire world was pressing down on her lungs. "...how did you...what...who did this to you?"

"Hey! What are you doing?!"

Anora's head snapped up to behold a middle-aged man and four children of varying maturities looming in the main entrance of the tent. The man, obviously the owner of the tent, glared at them with two small, beady eyes that peered out from behind bushy brown brows and bulging cheeks, grinding his feet into the dirt as he prepared to charge. Snatching up the pillow from the remains of the pedestal, she hurled it at the man, nailing him in the face.

"Rayla, run!"

With their father momentarily disoriented, the two eldest children, a boy and a girl, rushed at them. Glancing upwards, Anora noticed how the weight of the numerous tapestries was causing the roof of the tent to sag, so she grabbed the closest one and yanked it as hard as she could. This proved to be just enough strain as the center of the tent caved inward, cutting them off from their assailants. Brought back to her wits by Anora's shout, the commotion, or a combination of the two, Rayla closed her fist tightly around the coin and barreled back out into the open with Anora close behind her.

[s-ultry]

please me - a tom holland fanfic

CHAPTER ONE

A/N: so i decided that i’d move my fanfic from wattpad to tumblr! just to give me a bit of a boost to continue it, i hope you guys enjoy!

chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six

SUMMARY: when the billionaire meets the microbiologist.

sugardaddy!tom

enjoy me writing nonsense lol

cast:

tom holland as himself

ariana grande as belle lorems

scarlett byrne as luna lorems

james phelps as klaus lorems

whoever you want as demitri and madeleine lorems

-

There she sat, the only place where she truly felt at home. Although she was at her local university, the library still amazed her no matter what she read. As she indulged into the book of Geographical Mysteries she wondered, she wondered whether one day she could be a person to benefit this world or the ecosystem. Her name, as beautiful as her, Belle.

Belle Lorems, a 19-year-old girl who loved her studies and is a very ambitious female of her generation. Belle's childhood consisted of a drunk father who would abuse her mother who was more than innocent, but her mother didn't treat her that well either. All of the attention would go to her elder siblings, her brother Klaus and her sister Luna. Klaus and Belle had a 5 year age gap while Belle and her sister had 2. Let's just say that Belle wasn't the center of attention, but she was the brightest and the most intelligent of them all.

Belle currently studies at the University of New York, where she aspires to become a microbiologist. Sadly, her mother was hoping for her to become a model just like her sister, or an athlete like her brother. Her father was now completely sober but still frustrated whenever Belle was around. It was as though she was the black sheep of the family.

Whenever she used to get the top grade in her whole class, her parents say its good. She's not allowed to spend any money as they are already fed up with her wanting new clothes, mind her, she only had minimal. She was forbidden to drive a car and is obliged to take the bus back home. Which she didn't mind of course, as it was a journey for her.

Speaking of home, Belle returned her book to where it belonged and headed out to go back home. During her 10 minute walk, she encountered a cute little café where she decided to get a cooling beverage. She walked up ordering an iced coffee with an extra shot of espresso in which she savored once she held the drink in her hand.

Belle was indeed owning up to her name, she was a curvy average sized girl who had luxurious long brown hair and a pleasing facial structure. That's what people told her, but she never approved of it.

Unlocking the door to her home announcing her arrival she wasn't surprised when she heard no ones reply. The brunette made her way to the kitchen where she saw her mom baking some sort of cake that smelled delicious.

"What you baking there, Mom?" Belle questioned her mother as she placed her books on the kitchen counter.

"Red velvet cake with a sprinkle of cinnamon. Would you like to try some?" Her mother, Madelaine replied handing a piece of cake to her daughter. Belle was in bewilderment as to how nice her mother was acting.

She moaned in pleasure as the cake melted in her mouth, she glanced at her mother giving her a thumbs up. "Now, I need you to change immediately because a guest is arriving soon. They will have dinner with the whole family since he's your father's boss. Don't act weird, don't talk weird, just don't be yourself. Understand." Belle's mother scolded her as her daughter obeyed her commands grabbing her books and running upstairs.

Belle quickly jumped into the shower, lathering her hair in soap as well as her body. Minutes after her quick but relaxing shower she began her makeup routine, applying winged liner that wasn't as bold as her sisters and pairing it with a bold red lip. She then grabbed her hair dryer contemplating whether to straighten her hair or to curl it, in the end, she confirmed that she would curl her ends leaving a more natural look.

"Jamming out to music isn't what we want our guest to hear, huh?" Her sister Luna walked in wearing her silver silk robe. Belle lightly smiled as she lowered her music down, hoping for the awkward silence to disappear.

"So listen, apparently the guest that dad's bringing over is his boss, right?" The dirty blonde asked her sister in which she nodded. "So, I did a bit of research and figured out that the guest he's bringing is billionaire playboy Mr. Tom Holland!" Her sister squealed whilst her sister stared at her in confusion.

"Come on Bellatrix! You don't even know who The Tom Holland is?"

"Nope never heard of him, to busy studying!" Belle chuckled as she walked into her closet, her sister followed with her phone glued to her face searching the playboy on the internet.

"Him!" Luna pointed at her phone slightly shaking, Belle grabbed her phone and scrolled through the pictures that loaded. He looked demanding, controlling, dominant. She saw him walking out of luxurious stores with girls screaming for him.

"Well, have him all you want!" Belle chose a baggy loose dress to where in which her sister snatched away from her grasp. "You're not wearing that in front of him, I'll give you a dress," her sister ran into her room and came back with a tight-fitting, off shoulder black dress. The Lorems weren't stupid rich, but they did have enough to buy expensive items.

"No, Luna I'm not wearing that!" Belle argued in her baby pink robe as she rummaged her closet to find a dress, but since she didn't have anything she grabbed the dress from her sister's hand and slammed the bathroom door. The brunette then stared in the mirror, looking around her whole body insecurely. She would never wear anything like what she was wearing right now, she paired it with her necklace that she wore every day, it was a snakehead with jewels. Belle decided that today was the day for her kitten heels that she got from a relative a while back.

She left the bathroom to wear the pair of black shoes when she heard commotion downstairs, she cursed to herself as she heard them walk into the dining room. Belle looked at herself one more time reciting her pep talk to herself whilst walking downstairs.

"Breathe, Belle, breathe," she calmed herself down while knocking on the dining room's door.

"Finally, she decided to arrive!" Her mother exclaimed opening the grand door revealing the room of her family and a mysterious man. He stood up expecting a welcome, but as shy as she became she sat opposite of him.

"Bellatrix, darling. Would you get the dinner for us?" Her father demanded her, not expecting no for an answer in which she promptly stood up walking to the kitchen. "I'd love to help her Demitri," she heard their guest say trying to stand up.

"Nonsense! She'll get it herself," her father smiled drinking his glass of wine.

Belle then returned with two dishes juggling in her hands, but as one was about to fall Mr. Holland had caught it looking up into her brown globes, her breath hitched as she glanced at his dark, controlling ones.

"Belle take the dish from Mr. Holland! Now!" Her mother scolded her daughter leading Belle to gently place one dish on the table and taking the other from the billionaire's hand. The five-foot teenager quickly ran to her seat looking down in shame. She never liked how her parents controlled her, but she couldn't talk back as its disrespectful towards them.

Throughout dinner she kept quiet, making sure not to embarrass her family. But, she did want to enjoy the dinner with her food. "So, Klaus. What's your job?" The sharp man looked over to her brother. "Oh, I play for this football team as the attacker!" Klaus briefly explained to his guest.

"What about you, Luna?" Mr. Holland also asked the second oldest of the Lorems.

"Well, I study at a beauty college because I want to be a model!" Luna described to the man trying to act seductive as possible in order to get his number. Her mother stared both children with pride and excitement, but once it was Belle's turn she rolled her eyes.

"Lastly, what do you study Bellatrix?" He asked with a smirk plastered along his lips once he saw her blush intensifying as he kept staring at her.

"It's Belle," she whispered as her shyness was taking over.

"What?" Mr. Holland stared straight into her eyes knowing he was playing games with her, but Belle sat there trying to maintain her composure.

"Um, uh, it's Belle. And, um uh oh yeah, wait," The brunette started stuttering forgetting everything as her mind started going blank.

"It's okay darling, you don't need to be shy in front of me," his deep British accent seeped through as he was drinking his wine, never breaking eye contact.

Belle coughed, she felt weird feelings after he had said that. "I am a sophomore studying to be a microbiologist," she announced speaking loud and clear.  She then continued munching on her vegetables.

"That's quite hard. Do you enjoy it?"

"Yes, I find the topic very fascinating and requires more concentration and intelligence. In which I think I have," Belle replied looking down at her hands that were hidden under the table.

"I would've expected Bellatrix to end up as a librarian in one of those adult films," her brother laughed while the others chuckled at her except Mr. Holland. He glanced at her to see tears forming in her eyes, he felt angry. He felt hurt, mad, and wanted to punch every single one of them for hurting such a precious rose like that.

"May I be excused?" Belle asked her mother in which she obliged, the brunette ushered towards the bathroom locking herself in and looking at herself. Belle saw tears forming in her eyes, but she didn't want them to spill as she spilled enough. She glanced in the mirror and she saw someone pathetic, someone who didn't deserve anything like this hurt and abuse. Belle only hoped for a miracle.

The teenager then heard footsteps coming to the door, she held her breathe hoping it wasn't one of her family members. Then, her thoughts of panic were interrupted by a few knocks on the door.

"Belle, may I enter?" She heard the Britt question her from the other side of the door. Belle fixed herself up, but her puffy eyes were evident. She then unlocked the door to find a concerned young man looking all over her face, almost checking if she didn't hurt herself.

"Sorry I took so long Mr. Holland, forgive me," the youngest Lorems looked down fiddling with her fingers. The cunning businessman then took her hands into his own, making her gaze up at his own brown globes.

He gently pushed her back inside the bathroom locking it behind him. Mr. Holland then glanced down at her, he delicately grabbed her waist lifting her up on the countertop of the marvellous bathroom. Stood in between her legs his fingers rubbed her hands as she was trying her hardest not to let the tears fall, not again.

"Tell me everything, love," he begged her, knowing a man like him would never beg for anything.

"This has been happening since I was around 5 years old, my parents and my siblings basically bullying me for every step, every breath, every action I am being targeted. I can't defend myself because I hate the thought of talking back to someone older than me, it's disrespectful and rude. Especially when they talk about my career choice, my parents wanted me to be famous and have flashing cameras everywhere," Belle vented not daring to examine the man's facial expression.

"I-I tried to hide in my university, but I have to come home to cook and clean for them. I just have to live with it," she huffed fiddling with her fingers.

He then cupped her cheek, making her look at him. Belle's eyes closed gently as the heat of his hand introduced itself to her tear-stained cheek, leaning into it.

"You've been a very good girl, obeying everyone's command. I like that, and Belle you're the Cinderella in your own fairy tale. Hopefully, you will meet your prince soon," he sincerely smiled at the girl in front of him. Belle then pulled him into a hug, holding him tight hoping he'd never leave and inhaling his strong cologne that relaxed her immediately.

They both let go of the hug and Belle jumped down from the countertop, she turned around and gazed at the mirror, not noticing Mr. Holland's hands around her waist as he hugged her from behind.

"Look at yourself, Belle. You're stunning, beautiful, intelligent, and perfect. What more would a man want, what more would anyone want? Forget what they said, now it's time to focus on you now." He scanned her in the mirror, from head to toe she was flawless in his eyes.

In his eyes, she was indeed perfect, exactly who he imagined he would be with. Shy, intelligent, submissive.

But he wondered, what would it be like to have her all. Hold onto her, spoil her. In the end, all he ever wanted was a baby girl.

-

hope you enjoyed that chapter!

-a

[camillemontespan]

a kingdom divided [part two] [drake walker x mc]

Part One  if you want to catch up.

Part Two, here we go! Just some cuteness, some sexy times, more cuteness. 

@jovialyouthmusic @pug-bitch @drakesensworld @moonlightgem7 @tacohead13 @sirbeepsalot @drakewalkerisreal  @notoriouscs @ifyouseekheart @katedrakeohd

                      ********************************************

Drake squeezed Camille's hand in excitement as she lay back on the bed. Doctor Valentina filled out a form and then turned to the couple. 'It's good to see you, Your Grace,' she smiled. Camille blushed. 'Just Camille, please.' Doctor Valentina bowed her head and then cleared her throat. 'So, today we're going to see how you're cooking. I understand you both want to know the sex?'

Drake nodded. 'Definitely.'

Doctor Valentina gave him a wink. 'Let's get started then. So, this will feel a little cold, Camille..'

Camille let out a gasp then giggled. She held Drake's hand as she watched the gel be smoothed onto her stomach. 'Now if you both just take a look at the screen for me,' the doctor said softly.

Camille and Drake looked at the monitor screen and both gasped when they saw the baby appear. 'Is that it's hand?! Is it sucking its thumb?!' Camille cried.

The doctor grinned. 'She is indeed.'

Camille clapped her other hand to her mouth, tears springing up in her eyes. 'We're having a daughter..' she whispered. Drake bent down to place a long kiss on her forehead. He squeezed her hand. 'A mini Camille,' he murmured, looking into her eyes. His smile was so wide and joyful. 

'How does she look in there?' he asked. Doctor Valentina examined the screen. 'She's growing perfectly. Right on track.'

Drake beamed at his wife, who was staring at the monitor with tears rolling down her cheeks. 'You're taking such good care of her, honey,' he told her, his eyes sparkling with happy tears. Camille laughed, rubbing her eyes. 'I'm trying my best.'

'Do you want to hear her heartbeat?' Doctor Valentina asked. They both nodded mutely.

The sound filled the room. Drake slumped down on the chair beside Camille, his eyes wide. He could hear his daughter. It was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard in his life.

                             ***********************************************

They left the hospital with the picture of the scan safely stowed in Camille's handbag. They were greeted by a crowd of paparazzi who were all shouting and taking pictures. Camille stiffened and Drake placed his hand on the small of her back. ‘How did they know we were here?’ she asked quietly. ‘Someone at the hospital must have tipped them off,’ Drake replied, his jaw clenched. They did not need this right now. ‘Why are you both here?’ one photographer asked. 'Camille, are you pregnant?!' another shouted. Drake grimaced and shielded her from view. Camille strategically placed her handbag in front of her tummy, trying to hide the tiny bump.

They hadn't announced the baby news to the press and public yet. They had wanted to keep it secret until they were absolutely certain that the baby was healthy. Only their close friends knew. Drake and Camille were notoriously private so to announce the pregnancy was already a big deal for them. It was one of those times when Drake wished they were just normal people.

A photographer reached out to grab Camille’s arm, his fingernails digging into her skin. 'Ow!' Camille cried. Drake turned quickly and saw the grip the photographer had on her arm. 'Get your hands off her!' he demanded, wrenching the photographer's hand away. He wrapped his arm around Camille and guided her to their private car. 'Fucking ridiculous..' he whispered. Drake opened the car door for her and she got inside, keeping her handbag clasped to her body. The photographers were relentless, the flashing of their cameras lighting up the car. Drake shoved his way through the crowd and got into the car beside her, slamming the door behind him. 'Geoffrey, please drive,' he instructed their driver. The car moved away and Camille saw with a sickness in her stomach that the photographers were running after them.

'They've ruined our family moment..' she whispered, her voice cracking. She held back hot tears which were threatening to spill down her cheeks. Drake grabbed her hand fiercely. 'Don't give them the satisfaction, Camille. They're animals. Don't give them a second thought.' He looked at her arm where the fingernail marks of the photographer were still embedded in her skin. He sighed and pulled her into him gently. She lay her head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. It was hammering in his chest. Clearly, he was more worked up about it than he was letting on.

'Let's see our baby girl again,' he suggested. Anything to keep her mind off what just happened and get her smiling again. Camille sniffled and took the scan out of her handbag. She showed it to Drake who stroked the picture gently. 'I can't wait to meet her,' he said, unable to take his eyes off the picture. Camille smiled now and snuggled into his chest, inhaling his woody scent. She had forgotten about the press now. ‘I like the idea of you having a daughter,’ she said. ‘I mean, you’re definitely a DILF.’ Drake burst out laughing. ‘I’m not a DILF!’ Camille turned to look at him properly, her eyes steady on his. Drake’s heart quickened, as it always did whenever she properly studied him. ‘Trust me, Drake Walker. You’re a DILF.’

Drake glanced over and was amused to see that Geoffrey had discreetly pressed the button that controlled the dark screen which separated the driver and his passengers. He turned his attention back to Camille. Her eyes were dark and a lock of her dark hair had escaped from her messy bun, framing her cheekbone. Drake reached out and stroked her cheek.  ‘You’re beautiful,’ he murmured.

Heat passed between them and in a moment, Camille was straddling his lap, pulling onto the collar of his shirt, crashing her mouth against his. His hands grasped onto her back, pulling her in close. Their tongues twisted together and she let out a giggle as he pulled the hem of her dress up. 

‘I like these pregnancy hormones,’ he whispered against her lips. She replied by kissing his neck, inhaling his scent. She wanted to consume him; everything about him, she loved and wanted. She needed him right now.  

Camille unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans, followed by the fly of his boxers. She settled herself down onto him, impatient, and he groaned as he felt her walls around his length. She was already so ready for him. She closed her eyes, focusing on how big he was and how good he made her feel. They moved hard and fast, gasping from the exertion. The landscape of Valtoria passed them by but they only focused on the moment, on each other. God knows when they would next be able to have sex in a moving vehicle. 

Camille cried out as his hips rammed against hers. He was hitting all the right spots. Drake knew her body inside out, what she loved, what she didn’t, what she secretly liked but would never admit to.  For example, he knew that if he pulled her into him this close and moved this certain way, she would orgasm. 

She did. 

Her face fell into the crook of his neck and she was panting heavily. He kissed her deeply and she looked into his eyes, a dazed expression on her face. ‘See?’ she murmured, her voice thick. ‘You’re a DILF.’

                                 ************************************************

‘Oh my God, you’re having a girl!’ Hana squealed, pulling Camille and Drake into a four person bear hug. Her eyes danced as she jumped up and down. ‘Can I be godmother?!’ Camille laughed. ‘Obviously, Hana!’ Olivia gave Camille a hug next, a genuine one. They had become close friends since Camille had married Drake and it already looked like it was a friendship for life. ‘Congratulations, darling,’ Olivia said. She turned to Drake now. ‘Don’t fuck it up.’  Drake chuckled in surprise. Liam clapped him on the back, a wide grin plastered on his face. ‘Congratulations, brother.’ Maxwell had a bottle of champagne in his hand, the Beaumont sword in the other. ‘Ladies and gentleman!’ he bellowed. The group stopped talking and turned to face him. 

He cleared his throat. ‘I, for one, am so happy for you both. You are the best couple I have ever met and I’m so pleased to watch you on this new chapter of your lives.’ Olivia smirked. ‘Wow, an actual grown up, sensible speech-’ ‘NOW LET’S CELEBRATE LIKE THERE IS A NEW BABY COMING!’ he screeched, swiping the sword against the bottle, somehow managing to open it perfectly. The fizz cascaded out. 

Bertrand handed out glasses - Camille rejected a glass of champagne for obvious reasons but she settled for orange juice. She cleared her throat and addressed her friends. 

‘I’m so happy,’ she told them. ‘I never dreamed I would have this marriage or this baby. I have both. I’m so excited to meet my little marshmallow. She is going to be so loved.’ ‘Here, here!’ everyone chorused.  Liam stepped forward. ‘If I may be so bold,’ he said warmly. ‘I see this baby as a symbol. A symbol of new beginnings, of fresh starts, of love. May she symbolise the bringing together of the kingdom!’  Drake paled, daunted at the thought. Camille smiled tightly and squeezed his hand. Liam raised his glass at the couple. ‘To Cordonia.’

                                **************************************************

Camille’s phone rang and she groaned when she saw the caller ID. ‘Not now, please not now...’ she whispered. Drake sniggered. ‘Just get it over with.’ She sighed and answered the call. ‘Hello, Madeleine,’ she said politely. Drake heard the shrill shrieking of Camille’s publicist down the phone. ‘What the fuck were you thinking placing that handbag in front of you?!’  Camille blinked. ‘What?’ ‘Don’t act dumb. The handbag. Why did you place it in front of you when you were leaving the hospital? You do realise that is the most obvious way to show you are fucking pregnant?!’ Camille’s mouth fell open. ‘I was hiding the bump!’ ‘Please! You must read magazines! Surely you know how many mothers to be do that in the papers, deny they are pregnant and then BAM! One issue later and they’re announcing that they’re due in the summer. THINK CAMILLE!’ Camille shrunk down into her chair, feeling like a scolded child. ‘I didn’t think.’ ‘No, you never do. God, it’s all over the news! Vogue.com has placed a red ring around your stomach! YOU ARE A VICTIM OF THE RED RING! Rookie mistake. Now, I’ve got to clear the mess up. Are you announcing the pregnancy? You kind of have to now.’ Camille stood up quickly, her vision blurring for a moment. ‘We want to announce it when we are ready,’ she told Madeleine. ‘Not because we’re forced to.’

‘You are a Duchess now, Camille,’ Madeleine replied, her tone patronising. ‘You can’t just do things for yourself anymore. You have to think about the country, about Valtoria. You can’t hide this.’ Camille closed her eyes. Not for the first time, she wished she was just regular old Camille. The commoner. The one who had never been to Cordonia. She caught herself at the thought. Stop it. If she was still regular old Camille, she wouldn’t have this life. Her friends. This marriage.  Would she give it up for a day of normality? No. She wouldn’t.  ‘Let me talk to Drake,’ she said and before Madeleine could protest, she hung up the phone. 

                                    ****************************************

They announced the pregnancy in a statement to the press. Drake hadn’t been happy about it and neither had Camille, but they both knew that as Duke and Duchess, they had to do it this way. They had to play by the rules of the nobility. They had to put on their Duke and Duchess masks and play the role they were honoured with. A role that demanded the best standard of decorum. Knowing which fork to use at dinner. Knowing how to greet the King. The smiles they put on for the nobles they didn’t like.  Only at night, did the masks come off and they were themselves. 

It was Liam’s idea that the open house also be turned into an event to celebrate the new baby of Valtoria. ‘It will make the people feel closer to you, that they can share this with you.’ ‘You mean share my daughter,’ Drake had snapped. The open house was already something he wasn’t keen on. Adding the pregnancy news to the mix was another issue he had to grapple with. He hadn’t meant to snap but he saw Liam’s face fall and he felt a twinge of guilt.  ‘Sorry Liam,’ he mumured. ‘I just wish Camille and I could enjoy this for ourselves. Really soak it up without anyone knowing.’ ‘I understand, Drake. Really. It’s the biggest news you’ve ever had in your life. It’s fantastic. But as Duke-’ ‘I know, I have to remember my duty.’ ‘Exactly.’ Drake sighed . ‘Fine,’ he relented. ‘The open house will celebrate the baby.’

                        ********************************************

That night, Drake stroked Camille’s bump as they both sat and watched a film. Camille was dressed in a silk grey camisole short set and furry slipper boots. She had wanted to eat all of the sweet things so Drake had driven out to the nearby grocery store and picked up Oreos, Nutella, Mars Bars, everything that was made out of chocolate went into the basket. Camille squealed when he came home, his arms laden with chocolate and they settled down on the sofa to indulge. As Camille snuggled up into his chest, the scent of chocolate settling on her, Drake smiled at this moment. This was all he needed. Just her. Their bump. This moment of normal within this crazy world they lived in. For Drake, the masks were finally off. 

[foofygoldfish]

the wedding; faith seed x alice riley

so uh - this is awkward as hell. but oh well. a sequel to @elusetta‘s wedding fic, this time featuring Adelaide and Mary May being upset that they dared to get married without either of them, as well as the presence of Claire and Carolina Denno, their foster daughters.

warning, this is cheesy as fuck and i have no idea what i’m doing for any of it lmao

there’s also a key at the end of the wedding party/involved people, because i spent way too much time figuring that out

The war had been over for five long years. Hope County was finally getting back on its feet, with buildings being repaired, families returning, and more small victories every day. Casey had permanently taken control of the Testy Festy, the Rye’s had monthly barbecues, and the Fall’s End churches were busier than ever, with regular services, as well as funerals (many, at first, then slowly petering out to a normal rate) and weddings.

Weddings, like the one that was happening today: former Deputy, now mayor, Alice Riley, and former Herald of the Project at Eden’s Gate, Faith Seed.

Whispers had been going around the valley for months. The couple had “officially” married a few years back, after Faith’s house-arrest had loosened to include more areas of the county, but - at Mary May and Adelaide’s insistence - they were finally having a big ceremony.

Nobody was sure if it was because they wanted to, if it was simply happening because of Adelaide’s insistence, or if it was for the benefit of their foster daughters, who had moved in with them nearly three years before.

It didn’t matter, of course - while the ceremony was for friends and family, everyone knew that at least half the county would show up to the reception at Primrose Ranch. Plenty of people didn’t approve of the match, even now. But, hey, free food? Even now, so long after the war, people had a hard time turning that down.

The whole thing started because of Adelaide: Mary May was upset she hadn’t been included in the original ceremony, but understood why it was so private. Adelaide?

Well, she insisted on planning a bigger ceremony. She became even more insistent after Claire and Carolina had settled into the family, saying that at the very least, they needed a picture to put on the mantle or something. A full ceremony, that’d be preferable, but… At least a picture.

Alice made the mistake of saying yes - to the picture.

It… Obviously didn’t stay as just a picture.

Planning was a flurry: trips to Missoula, then a weekend trip into Seattle (one for Alice, one for Faith), because no, their original dresses absolutely wouldn’t do, and they had to have a bridal shower (Alice won the no-presents argument, since the two had been living together for seven years now and didn’t really need anything), multiple consultations on flowers and decorations… Grace was bribed into making the wedding cake (by Alice, who thought Adelaide’s original ideas were too grand), and Casey and a friend of Elizabeth’s were handling the catering.

The bachelorette parties?

Both Alice and Faith would rather forget those.

But finally, the day was here, and the town was abuzz: the Fall’s End Church was fully-decorated, as was Primrose Ranch.

The couple both said they’d rather get ready together, at home, but both Adelaide and Mary May had insisted that they get ready separately.

Mary May’s old apartment above the bar was cleaner than the old cabin was, which was nice, but the fawning? Not as nice. Faith had gotten the house when they drew straws - she was smug, teasing Alice that she’d get pictures with the cats, but Alice wouldn’t.

“Alice, hold still.” Mary May crossed her arms, frowning when Alice stuck her tongue out at her. “Do you want to do this or not?”

“I did! Three years ago!”

“That doesn’t count!”

“Then what paperwork did I file?” Alice tugged her head away from Mary May’s grasp, sighing. “My hair is fine, Mary. It’s fine.”

Again with the frowning. “At least let me --”

“Mary May.”

“The fucking flower crown, Alice. Just let me put that on, then I’ll set you free.”

“No you won’t.” She sighed, settling back into the chair. As her friend carefully nestled the delicate flower crown in her hair - soft pink, even lighter than her hair, with white roses nestled within - she slid her hands down the chiffon of her skirt.

Even if this was more of a vow renewal than a wedding, it was still surreal. The dress was almost identical to the one she wore at her first wedding, a soft white (Adelaide’s insistence) chiffon number inspired by Grace Kelly’s blue dress in To Catch a Thief, minus the scarf. Adelaide had insisted on it - she would have prefered to wear her old dress, same with Faith, but… Sometimes you just don’t argue with Addie.

----

Holy shit.

Holy. Shit.

Alice hadn’t seen her uncle or brother in years - not since before she moved back to Hope County.

She’d sent them invitations, yeah, but… She didn’t think they could come, she thought their schedules were super busy -

But here they were.

Standing at the bottom of the stairs, her uncle’s arm stretched out to help her to the door, tears barely hidden from his eyes. (Her brother? He was a mess. Caleb always was when emotions were involved and he wasn’t working)

“Hey, sweetie.”

Smiling, Alice barreled into her uncle, hugging him close. “I missed you, Uncle T. And you too, Caleb, fuck, I missed you guys.”

“Oh, uh -” Alice looked up the stairs, smiling as she saw Claire walking down. “Uncle T, Caleb, this is Claire, Grace and Joey are outside, uh, I think you’ve already met Hurk over there, and Mary May, Caleb, you remember  -”

Thomas shook Hurk’s hand, smiling, before crouching down in front of Claire. “So you’re the famous Claire?”

The little girl nodded, “Mmhm.”

“So, I hate to break this up - “ Grace poked her head inside the bar, nodding in the direction of the church. “But Joey said everyone’s in the church.”

Thomas gave Alice a reassuring smile, offering her arm to her. She smiled back, laughing when Caleb offered Claire a piggyback ride - the girl shook her head, but happily took her uncle’s hand.

The walk to the church was excruciating, and Alice barely remembered the walk up the aisle - it felt like a dream.

Mary May stood beside her, whispering words of encouragement, reminding her to take deep breaths.

It wasn’t the first wedding. They were already official.

But God.

Mary May’s going to tease her later for her immediately tearing up when Faith entered the church - but honestly? She doesn’t care.

Fuck.

This is happening.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her uncle smiling, her brother giving her a thumbs up, and Sharky -- fucking Sharky, being a dork, grinning like an idiot.

Faith grabbed Alice’s hand the instant she arrived at the altar, smiling at her wife. The pair turned to Pastor Jerome, who greeted the congregation.

“We are gathered here today to officially celebrate the union of Faith and Alice Riley. While I was there that day three years ago, someone, “ He looked at Mary May, who raised her hand, and laughed, “Convinced them to have a ceremony that included their friends and family. But enough of me - Thomas Riley, will be reading an excerpt from a favorite book of his.”

Oh, this is gonna be interesting.

Thomas took a deep sigh as he unfolded the paper with his reading, shooting the couple another reassuring smile. “Well, for those of you who don’t know, I’m Alice’s Uncle Thomas. Or T. Whatever. Her and Caleb moved in with me a good 15 years ago, and… Well, we may not have expected either to be where they are in life, but I know my wife and my brother would have been proud of them, and that they would have wanted to be here today. Uhm, I’m going to read y’all an excerpt from one of my - and my brother’s - favorite authors, Madeleine L’Engle.

“‘But ultimately there comes a moment when a decision must be made. Ultimately two people who love each other must ask themselves how much they hope for as their love grows and deepens, and how much risk they are willing to take. It is indeed a fearful gamble. Because it is the nature of love to create, a marriage itself is something which has to be created, so that, together we become a new creature.’ I may not know the full details of what happened here in Hope County a few years back, but I do know that whatever happened lead my niece to Faith and even though it was risky, they stayed together. So. Congrats, you two. I love you.”

Fuckin’ hell. Alice didn’t think she’d be this much of a mess today.  “Love you too, Uncle T.”

“Now, Alice told me not to get too crazy with a bible passage - so a classic, I Corinthians 13:4-7. ‘Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous; love does not brag and is not arrogant, does not act unbecomingly; it does not seek its own, is not provoked, does not take into account a wrong suffered, does not rejoice in unrighteousness, but rejoices with the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends.’” Pastor Jerome closed his bible, motioning to Faith. “Faith?”

“There’s no way I was going to remember this, so…” The former siren took a deep breath, pulling a piece of paper out of her pocket. “There was no way I could have known how much you would mean to me, after seeing you the first time in Joseph’s church, no way that I could have thought we would get married that day two years ago.” Another deep breath - Alice noticed Faith’s hands shaking, and she reached over, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “I know not everyone likes me, and I know some people never will forget what happened. But… I’m so glad we’re together. And I’m so glad that we have everyone here - Claire, Caroline, your family, all of our friends - to witness this, and to hear me promise that in sickness and in health, richer, poorer, all of that - that I love you, I love our little family, and I always will.”

“Alice, I believe you said you had special vows?”

“Oh, Faith, you’re going to kill me. I know we said we wouldn’t get too crazy,” Alice laughed, and she heard a few snickers from the crowd. “So… Caleb and Mary May are probably the only ones who remember how much I loved this song when it came out - okay, well, maybe Staci too, but uh, I digress… So. This is a quote from one of my favorite songs, and I… It fits us. And how I feel about you. It’s not really a vow, but, Uh. ‘Your arms are my castle, your heart is my sky, you wipe away tears that I cry, the good and the bad times, we’ve been through them all, you make me rise when I fall.’”

It was cheesy as fuck, but… Faith’s smile? And the happy tears she could just see in the corner of her eyes - worth it.

“And now, the rings.” Jerome waved Sharky forward, and the man happily handed Alice and Faith their wedding rings. They were the same from before - each had handed over their original rings that morning, both happy that they had talked Adelaide into not buying them new ones. “I believe you two know what to say?”

“With this ring, I thee wed.” Faith slipped the ring onto Alice’s finger, smiling at her.

“With this ring, I thee wed. In front of everyone, this time.” Faith snorted as Alice spoke, receiving an eye roll in response.

“Well, I can’t really say that I now pronounce you wife and wife, but -” Jerome laughed. “By the power vested in me by God and the state of Montana, I happily, finally introduce Alice and Faith Riley.”

They skipped a kiss (Alice faintly heard Hurk yelling “come on,” but she ignored him), instead touching foreheads.

“I love you.”

Faith sighed. “I love you, too.”

The pair ducked into their house as guests filed out of the church, piling into cars to head to the reception at Elizabeth’s ranch.

Later, after a flurry of pictures in Fall’s End and on the ranch, they took a deep breath outside the tent the reception was in.

“You ready?”

“No.” Alice looked up at Faith, then sighed. “Ready as I can be.”

Faith laughed, kissing the top of Alice’s head, and lead her wife to the head table. There were cheers and whistles (Alice shot a glance at Sharky and Hurk, who laughed and settled back into their chairs) as they sat down.

It wasn’t as crazy as she had expected, honestly - Adelaide had talked big, but hadn’t gone as all-out as she had threatened. Twinkle lights hung between the tents supports, wrapped in fake vines, with tea lights and fresh bouquets of flowers on each table. It seemed like half the county was there, but with Hope County, that… That was to be expected. Even with the fact that it was one of the old enemies of the county being married - it was still the biggest party the county had seen since the day Joseph was arrested.

Boomer laying at her feet, wearing a little “dog of honor” bandana, chewing on a bone - Alice could tell that his presence was helping Faith, who still wasn’t used to being around so many people that used to hate her.

After a round of appetizers, and an awkward toast from her brother (no baby stories, thank God.), Wheaty called for them to come out for their first dance.

As the first notes of “Crazy He Calls Me” played, Faith rested her cheek against Alice’s. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“I love you.”

Alice smiled, quickly kissing Faith. “I know.”

-

As the song ended, Wheaty announced that the floor was open to dancing, and Faith and Alice slipped outside with Claire and Carolina.

“So. We have a question for you two.” Alice wrapped her arm around Claire, Faith doing the same with Carolina. “You guys have been with us for a while now, and... “

“Well, what do you two think about becoming Rileys?” Faith smiled

Carolina looked between Faith and Alice, confused. “You mean….?”

“Welllll, we have the paperwork all finished, we just have to turn it in,” Alice said, looking up at Faith.

Claire squealed. “So you’re gonna be our moms?”

“If you want?” She looked at Carolina, then to Claire. “Uh, if you --”

Faith laughed as both Claire and Carolina hugged Alice, before being pulled in by Alice. “We love you two.”

-------

Eyyyy it was going to be super awkward after that so I’m ending it there!

I also spent way too much time figuring this out, so… Here’s the bridal parties/etc:

Alice’s Side

Maid of Honor: Mary May Bridesmaids: Hurk, Hudson, Grace, Claire Family: Uncle, brother, Sheriff Dad, Eli Walk down the aisle: Her uncle

Faith’s Side

Maid of Honor: Jane Bridesmaids: Elizabeth, Kim, Carolina Family: Sharky Walks her down the aisle: Nick? (because of Kim)

Gen

Officiant: Pastor Jerome Flower Girl: Baby Rye Ring Bearer: Sharky DJ: Wheaty Caterer: Grace/Casey Planner: Mary May Adelaide helps fund Jess avoids all the bridal stuff, but attends the wedding

[queencatherynerhys]

Alone - Part 4 TRR AU Speak Now

A/N: I’m back!!! Sorry for my long hiatus. I was dealing with a lot with school and my husband leaving for boot camp for the Army and transitioning from a civilian to a military life. Anyway. There isn’t a lot of dialogue in this chapter, but I still hope I capture your attention. Shout-out to the wonderful @katurrade who brought me out of my hiatus and inspiring me with her work to continue my own.

Summary: The aftermath of Liam’s decision of marrying for his country. How will he deal with this? How will it affect him?

Tag List: @kinkykingliam @devineinterventions2 @madaraism @theroyalweisme @drakewalkerwhipped @laniquelove @drakesfiance @hhiggs @hellospunkiebrewster @alicars @mrswalkerreynolds @mfackenthal @simplyaiden-blog @hopefulmoonobject @blackcatkita @cocomaxley @boneandfur @lizeboredom @crayziimaginations @umccall71 @zarina-x-zig @writtenbycandy @ranishajay @heatherfilliez @flyawayblue56 @drakelover78 @indiacater @pens-girl-87 @waitingforsuperman25 @katurrade @speedyoperarascalparty

Previous Parts:

Speak Now

Too Good at Goodbyes

My Immortal

Liam couldn’t fathom himself for being able to say “I do” while Catheryne watches him. How could he have been so cruel to her when all she has ever done is love him and give him the world? She was his world and his everything, yet there they were. His entire being loathes himself for doing this to her. He knows for as long as he lives that he will never be able to forgive himself. He can only pray and hope that one day Catheryne will.

He watches as she walks away from his sight and the agonizing pain is replaced with numbness. The rest of the ceremony passes in a blink of an eye and he had to resist the feeling of vomiting when he had to kiss Madeleine.

The guests’ applause as they walk down the aisle toward the motorcade that is awaiting them in the front. As they glide along, Liam tries to catch a glimpse of where Catheryne could be but to no avail. When they approach the exit, he hears the cheers of his people and he feigns a smile. He always thought this day would be a happy day. He would marry the queen Cordonia needs and satisfy his people just as he was born to do, but now here he stands hating this wretched day.

He should be celebrating along with his citizens but he’s forced to plaster a smile on his face and continue on with a lady beside him that he dislikes. He waves meaninglessly at the crowd that has gathered in front of the cathedral. The sound of flashing cameras and screaming people mixed with the awful feeling of holding Madeleine’s hand become too much for Liam and he starts to feel nauseous. He hurries to the limo that it to carry him to the reception.

Once inside and safe from prying eyes, he lets go of his grasp of Madeleine’s hands almost rudely. He sits as far as he can from her and stares at the window. As the car drives away, Liam catches the most heartbreaking picture of Catheryne alone in a secluded alley. If he wasn’t so focused on her, he would have never seen her there. His heart screams for her and he wishes he can bring himself to stop the car and go after her, but he lets it speed away and take him to an event he has to suffer through.

As one of the dukes of the most prestigious houses, Bertrand had the honor of announcing the arrival of the couple to their reception. “Please, join me in welcoming for the very first time our King and Queen.”

In cue, Liam walks through the archway to a stunning ballroom adorned in exquisite blue and white arrangement of bouquets as centerpieces and white banners and twinkle lights hangs from the ceiling. It was a sight to see, but Liam’s spirit is just not in this moment right now. They slowly stride into the full room and he feels self-conscious of the crowd. He just wants to run as far away as he can from where he is right now. He doesn’t care where he ends up, just not there, but his duty carries him through it.

He arrives at the front and makes his way to Bertrand stands. He takes the microphone and propose a toast, “Nobles and esteemed guests Madeleine and I want to extend our most gratitude for sharing this special experience with us. A marriage is a joining of two houses, but two hearts. With our marriage, we will also strive to join and unite Cordonia to a better future. Thank you and enjoy the party.”

The crowd applauses and Liam make his way to the wedding party table where Madeleine already sits. He finds his seat beside her and to his left is Drake with a disapproving and almost disgusted look for him. He shakes his head silently and doesn’t open his mouth for the rest of the dinner which he is relieved for. He can’t handle another person to deal with at the moment. It is taking his whole willpower to keep upright and smiling.

After the meal, Madeleine turns to him and flashes a smile at him. Through her grin, she speaks with the least emotion, “we need to make our rounds and please wipe the puppy dog eyes you’re embarrassing us both.” She pats his arm and laugh as if they just shared an inside joke, “Oh, Liam, please.”

He sighs. How has is life turned to this? He once thought that love didn’t matter. It was never a factor for previous regents. All married for one purpose: the good of the country. Now, here he is. Lost and lonely. His mind and heart at war with each other. Could it get any worse?

As if life just wanted to toy with him and his fragile heart, he is approached by a reporter and he asks, “King Liam, we couldn’t help but notice that our favorite Everywoman isn’t in attendance at your wedding? Did she decide that court was too much for her and left to become a waitress again?” He flashes a condescending, mocking smile and it sends Liam into a flurry of emotions, one of anger, annoyance and rage but he hides it all with a tiny grin.

“Thank you for your keen observance. Lady Catheryne is indeed not in attendance of the ceremony today. As for an answer to your question, my wife would be able to give you a clearer answer,” he struggles to speak with calmness.

The reporter walks away with disappointment from his dismissal. He guesses that he was looking for a scandal but it would to take a lot more than that for Liam to lose control. Just as he is about to walk away, Bertrand’s voice comes again through the system and announces the first dance.

Before he could slip away, the spotlight finds him. He feigns a smile and walks to the middle of the dance floor meeting his new bride for the traditional dance. As a skillful diplomat and an experienced dancer, he is able to fake a happy dance. To a regular person it would look as if they are a happy couple gliding mindlessly, lost in their fairytale, but to anyone who has known them and is a seasoned court attendee they are as rigid and emotionless in the inside. The last string of the waltz fade and Liam guides them out of the spotlight and loses himself in the gathered crowd.

He tires of this occasion and slips out of the grand ballroom of the palace. His feet set him on a path that even he doesn’t know. A few minutes pass and somehow, he manages to find himself in the middle of the maze. One of the few places in the palace that he knows guarantees him a bit of privacy. The privacy he is grateful for soon turns into a sorrowful moment when memories of what had transpired in this very place comes rushing to him like a bullet train.

He remembers the very first time he was in here with Catheryne on the night of the masquerade and her whimsical persona allowed him to be a child once more and play maze-tag. He remembers taking her here and confessing his love for her, verbally and physically, on the night of his Coronation and promising to choose her only for it to be yanked away from underneath him. All these memories, pleasant yet so painful. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

All the emotions he has been expertly pushing away are now uncontrollable and he collapses on the grass and sobs. He lets it all flow. The loss of his hope and his love. The pain of seeing the woman he loves crush by so much pain and seeing her stand alone in an empty alley when she should have been the one shrouded by the spotlight and the many congratulations that were said since the ceremony.

Tears flow down his face and he put his head down in his hands, gripping his hair. Pain very much stirs his heart, but there is guilt mixed with it. Against his better judgment he gets a horrible idea formed in his head.

He stands and pats his clothes for clinging leaves and dirt and heads up to his room. He changes from his formal wedding attire and throws it away, refusing to have any kind of memento from this horrible day aside from photos from the press has taken. He replaces his clothes with some of his most casual clothing. He dons a pair of blue jeans, a dark blue half sleeve shirt and his only black leather jacket. An inconspicuous attire to be able to sneak away from his home and his guards. Thankfully most of his security is busy with the party so it shouldn’t be too much of a problem to get away. Fortunately for him he grew up mischievously with a rebellious brother around and a rugged best friend who taught him the ins and outs of the palace.

After checking how he looked in the mirror for about the twentieth time, he heads out the door of his quarters. The hallways are clear of staff member, most of them being employed for the grand party being held downstairs for his honor. His thought begins to wander about people worrying of his disappearance, but he quickly swats it away concentrating on the stupid mission he has sent his mind to.

He quickly maneuvers through the palace corridors and uses the staff entrances to make his getaway. He emerges from the door of the kitchen and sneaks and pass the one guard on the way to the royal’s garage. When Leo was going through his teenage years he had accumulated many motorcycles and bikes. Unbeknownst to his father, Leo had taught him how to ride one.

Liam picks a black motorcycle from the collection sitting in the corner of the garage. Leo couldn’t take them all when he moved to America after he got married. He walks it out through the spacious side door and climbs on the saddle. The loud roar of the motor fills the air and before the guard can respond Liam speeds away leaving the palace in his rearview mirror.

He puts quite a bit of distance between the court and the palace and himself. He can never and will never be able to stand courtly functions again. Not without her. Not without always expecting to see her radiant smile and beautiful brown eyes through the crowd. Life would never be the same, he knew this the moment he realized who she was at the masquerade ball.

Buildings and views fly by him and the wind rushes his face. He opts out for wearing a helmet. He just wants to enjoy the freedom he has before he truly shackled to his post as king and to his wife and duty. Finally, he arrives at his destination, a tiny bar that has the best view of the country he so loves…loved? Could he really look at this place without reminding himself of what he had to do Catheryne for the sake of his country?

He settles into a secluded table. Thankfully, he isn’t recognized maybe due to his attire or maybe people just simply didn’t care who he is, but either way he is grateful for it. He is pretty sure he will never hear the end of this from his security detail, Madeleine and his parents. He is simply couldn’t care less. He orders a whole bottle of whiskey and in a few short minutes it arrives with a glass to accompany the bottle with the dark liquid.

Tonight, he just wants to drown his sorrows away. and in the spot, he knows no one would find him. He has downed three glasses of whiskey and starting to feel the effect. He looks out the view of the twinkling lights of Cordonia and wonders how his life turned out to be so miserable. What has he done to deserve so much pain? All he wanted was to do right by his country and now here he is wishing he could just run away from it all. Jealousy for what his life could have been if Leo had never abdicated starts to drown his mind and scenarios of maybe’s and ifs overwhelm him.

In all of the scenes that flow through his head a one constant is always there: Catheryne. She is always the front and center. He knows that will always be the case. He will never stop loving her. His heart aches and longs for her company. He wanted to take her here and to a few places that he was fond of that was around the area, sort of a personal tour of Liam’s upbringing and what shaped him to the man he is. So much for that idea.

After the fifth glass, he leaves. His head spins and he decide to cruise on his motorcycle and lets himself be led without thought. The only thing he knows is that he doesn’t want to be home in his own prison. Mindlessly being guided by instinct and alcohol he loses himself in the cool, night air.

Twenty minutes later he arrives on the circular driveway of a familiar home. If he wasn’t intoxicated he would have thought clearly and steer clear away from this place, but that is not the case at the moment. Right now, he is about to do something he might regret tomorrow morning. He dismounts his ride and treads carefully up the staircase leading to the door. He knocks quite loudly, and it startles him. He waits several minutes and pounds on the door again. He hears a muffled voice from the other side and within the blink of an eye the door opens revealing Catheryne and rendering him speechless.

“Liam…”

[truthbeetoldmedia]

Charmed 1x01 “Pilot” Review

There had been rumors of a Charmed reboot for years. Before that, there were rumblings of it being a sequel to the original series. At long last, the rebooted series has arrived. The new series follows Mel and Maggie Vera (Melonie Diaz and Sarah Jeffrey), as well as their long-lost half-sister, Macy Vaughn (Madeleine Mantock), as they discover their new powers that were bestowed upon them after their mother Marisol’s gruesome murder. It follows the same kind of formula that the original series had, but that’s basically it.  

As much as I had wanted to delve into every single article and promotional video leading up to the pilot episode, I had to hold myself back. Much like many fans, I was a huge fan of the original series and scoffed at the idea of a reboot so soon after the series finale. (It’s only been 12 years.  That’s not a lot.) However, then I decided to be an adult about this fictitious work and it give it a shot. Hollywood hasn’t been pumping out very many original ideas lately, so we’ve got to work with what we’re given and make for the best and make the best of it, they did!

Going into this with a very open mind, I was delighted by what greeted me. There was a light-hearted air to the episode, despite it starting off with a murder and the sisters in mourning. It was a great set-up to help us get to know the new sisters and their whitelighter guide, Harry (Rupert Evans). Mel and Maggie were the two sisters who had grown up together in a small college town called Hilltowne. Mel, the oldest of the two, is a hot-headed grad student, as well as ardent feminist and sapphic queen. She has a beautiful, kind, and caring detective girlfriend, Nico Hamada (Ellen Tamaki). After Marisol’s murder, Nico breaks up with Mel, not because she doesn’t care, but because Mel is just so angry all the time. Mel knew something was up with her mother’s mysterious death, but no one had given her the time of day, including Maggie.  

Maggie is an 18-year old undergraduate, starting her first year of college. We’re introduced to her trying to rush a sorority on campus. Maggie’s personality dictates someone that wants to fit in with those around her. The sorority is cliched, including the sorority president. That was basically one of only two parts of the episode I didn’t like. The sorority president, Lucy (Natalie Hall), comes across with this fake niceness that your typical “mean girls” always seem to sport. Lucy makes it clear to Maggie that she’s a shoe-in for joining the sorority, but wants Maggie to be more like the other pledges by falling a bit more in-line with their image.  

Macy Vaughn is a scientist. She recently got a position at the same university that Mel and Maggie attend, working under a Professor Thaine. While taking a walk, she stumbles upon the Vera house a few short months after Marisol’s murder. She recognizes it from a picture she has of herself standing in front of it in Marisol’s arms. Macy was told by her father that her mother died when she was little. She discovers that part was a lie, but we see her reading about Marisol’s murder on her first day of work. She ends up visiting Mel and Maggie and telling them she’s their sister. She basically ends up rocking their world, as the house completely loses power.  

The house may have lost electrical power, but these three young ladies gained their supernatural powers by all being under the same roof together for the first time. Turns out, that broke the binding spell their mother had placed on them. In the original series, the sisters had a binding spell placed on them so they could grow up as normal children, safe from dark forces. One can assume, based on this knowledge (unless you’re new to the world of Charmed), that it’s the same reasoning in the new series.   

Soon after meeting, the three start to exhibit new abilities. Macy discovers hers at a bar.  She ends up flinging a beer bottle at the wall...without touching it at all. She believes she’s drunk and clumsy and makes a flimsy excuse to leave her friend behind and go home. Mel finds her power when she’s catching up with Nico at a coffee shop. Nico’s a concerned ex-girlfriend at this point and while discussing Mel’s behavior after her mother’s death, Mel starts freezing time. Understandably, she’s freaked out and flees. Maggie finds her abilities during rush at the sorority house. She’s being introduced to other girls in the sorority and when she shakes their hand, she hears their thoughts about her. They’re typical judgemental sorority thoughts, but it’s enough to weird out Maggie and make a spectacle of herself in the meantime as she runs out of the house.  

The three women soon find themselves waking up tied to chairs in the Vera’s attic. Harry (mentioned above) introduces himself as a whitelighter; their angelic, spiritual guide. He’s also the man who took Marisol’s vacant position in the Women’s Studies department at the college. Harry informs them that they are the Charmed Ones and it’s their destiny to take down the forces of evil and stop the apocalypse. Obviously, this is met with trepidation. Macy explains that it’s all just science and that magic isn’t real. Maggie is fearful of these new abilities and isn’t sure if she wants this. Mel seemed to be the only sister who was thrilled by the news! They now have the ability to find out who murdered their mother.  

What actually gets them all on the same page eventually is when Maggie is attacked by her ex-boyfriend, who has been possessed by a demon. Was he the only evil being on campus? Absolutely not. Professor Thaine, who Marisol had been the sole reason for charges being brought against him because he’s a sexual predator, is evil in all the ways there can be. We’re first introduced to him earlier in the episode on Macy’s first day at work. He had the charges against him cleared, but protests were popping up on campus. By the end of the episode, Professor Thaine is made out to be the first big bad these new Charmed Ones have faced and defeated. They originally believed he was the one who killed their mother, but his dying words say otherwise.  

The episode ends with with sisters gathered around a Ouija board, attempting to communicate with their mother on the other side. “She” informs them not to trust Harry. This can go one of two ways: 1) The spirit the sisters have come into contact with isn’t their mother and is potentially an evil spirit/demon attempting to turn the sisters against their Whitelighter. 2) Harry isn’t who he seems.  I’m quite partial to number 1. It might just be that it’s my belief that Whitelighters are a force of good. If Harry is indeed a Whitelighter (he has the healing powers Whitelighters tend to have at least), I believe he must be good. If he isn’t, I’ll be the first to eat my words and express my disappointment.

As far as pilot episodes go, it wasn’t very groundbreaking. This show is still very much in the shadow of the original series. My hope is that it comes out from behind that shadow sooner rather than later. I want this show to stand out on its own and it very well could. It offers intersectional feminism, which the original series severely lacked. For the original series at the time, it was great feminism...for white women. Times change and representation needs to grow. If your feminism is lacking in intersectionality, then I know I certainly don’t want it. Fans of the new and old series, alike, should just give this series a shot. I am a very firm believer that you should never judge a show on its pilot. Let the season speak for itself. Let this show stand on its own.  

The Power of Three is back and just as strong as ever!  

Some thoughts:

It is WAY too early to tell who my favorite sister is going to be, but at the moment, it’s a tie between Macy and Mel.  

The line about the power to freeze time being “very common with control freaks” had be laughing hysterically because, damn, if that wasn’t just true for Piper, and now Mel.  

Pilot episodes are so cheesy, but this one was great for introducing the new sisters.

These sisters are also related to Melinda Warren! (Just like the original sisters!) It’s a show about magic, so naturally there could be a number of tie-ins to the original series.  

What the fuck is with the orbing? Is it even called “orbing” in this series? Whitelighters are supposed to “orb” in and out. This is the only thing that could possibly make me think Harry isn’t a Whitelighter...unless this is the new orbing that isn’t “orbing”. (This was the second of two things I didn’t like about this episode, FYI.)  

I’m sick and tired of seeing fans of the original series bashing the new series. Give this show a shot or don’t, but let the show speak for itself and stop harassing the actors and other people involved in the reboot. If you don’t like something, nothing is stopping you from simply not engaging. Be mature. It’s just fiction. Fiction is supposed to give you a break from your current reality. I’d gladly take a reboot over our current reality any day of the week.  

Charmed airs on Sundays at 9/8c on The CW.

Sarah’s episode rating: 🐝🐝🐝🐝

[festivalists]

Re:doubtable - Matt Micucci

Well, the Cannes Film Festival celebrates its 70th anniversary this year. But I remember when I first attended the festival – back in 1958!

It's been a while...

It's been a life...

Back then, the festival had been running for nine years – and that already felt like an achievement!

I was a budding and penniless film critic who had spent all his money on a train ride to the Croisette, feeling like somehow, and for some reason, I had to be there. Indeed, it would turn out to be one of the most important experiences of my life.

It was there I met François Truffaut.

Back then, he was the talk of the town, especially among film critics, because of the vicious attacks he had directed at the festival for years through his articles in Arts. In them, he called Cannes "a failure dominated by compromises, schemes, and faux pas," and predicted quite a different future for cinema: "The film of the future will be shot by adventurers... The film of tomorrow will be an act of love."

On account of these articles, the festival had refused to grant Truffaut a press accreditation in 1958 – but he attended anyway ("I've been sneaking into movies for free all my life!" he would later tell me).

To be honest, I didn't see what the big deal was. To me, Truffaut looked like a scrawny kid, little older than I was, with a belligerent look on his face – the look of an idealist, or an overprotective boyfriend, perhaps.

We met one night, on the beach. I'm not exactly sure about what time it was. It was probably a time late enough for actresses to take off their shoes and start dancing on tables full of empty glasses and champagne bottles.

We immediately got along great, François and I. His face lit up when I mentioned Jean Vigo, Alfred Hitchcock, Jean Renoir...

We lost track of time.

"Have you seen THE CRANES ARE FLYING?" he asked me. "It's fantastic!" I agreed.

How exciting!

"Why do you hate the festival, when so many great films are screened here every year?" I asked him.

"But so many horrible films are screened here also. So many horrible films are made every year. Besides, I feel like films are treated as the least important thing in a festival that is meant to celebrate them. This is no celebration! All the politics, administration, parties... It's all bullshit." Then he suddenly got up, shook the sand off his pants, and announced: "Things are going to change. And real soon too."

"Haven't you ever read Émile Zola?" I replied. "Things are more than likely going to get worse. C'est la vie. And anyways, who's going to change things?"

"I'll change things," he said. "Or I'll give it a shot... In any case, I want to make a feature. And I want to do it real soon too. I have to do it before I explode."

I rolled my eyes and didn't think much of it. A movie to me was something that people made somewhere, somehow, and with a lot of money. I was happy (addicted) to watch them, talk about them, write about them... but to make a movie? How exactly does one do that?

We kept talking a while longer and decided to call it a night. He asked for my address so that we could write each other letters. I told him I didn't have a permanent one at the moment. He gave me his and asked me to write him when I had settled down somewhere.

But I never did settle down anywhere... and I never did write to him. I regret that now.

He went back to his hotel. I stayed in my hotel (the beach).

I didn't see much of him for the rest of the festival. When we weren't watching movies, a girl named Madeleine kept him busy. We exchanged a few words, talking about the films we had seen. But I mostly didn't want to intrude. They seemed very fond of each other.

Although I didn't write much that year, I watched some incredible movies. Jacques Tati's MY UNCLE, Ingmar Bergman's BRINK OF LIFE, Satyajit Ray's PARASH PATHAR...

And then, the festival ended. THE CRANES ARE FLYING won the top prize! I was delighted.

As I hitch-hiked my way out of the Côte d'Azur, I kept thinking of the movies I had seen and wondered whether I'd come back next year. I also often thought of my friend François, and whether he would ever make a movie.

*Intermission*

A year later, I made the trip to Cannes once again, this time as a journalist sent by a prestigious publication, for which I was to write an overview of the festival. As I looked through the Official Selection, I was surprised to find among such names as Mario Soldati, Michael Powell, and Luis Buñuel that of my pal François.

He was to present a movie named THE 400 BLOWS.

On Monday, May 4, 1959, I was there, at a packed Palais des Festivals, for the film's official premiere. François walked in the room, looking just as he had a year earlier when we spent the whole night talking about our love of cinema. This time, however, he was pale and tense, walking with Madeleine and a cheeky-looking kid by his side.

Suddenly, I had a thought: what if this was a joke set up by the Cannes Film Festival at the expense of the critic who had attacked it so viciously for years! I imagined suits standing around a long table, laughing and saying: "Let him have a taste of his own medicine! That'll teach him!" And I also briefly thought of Zola's words, "The past was but the cemetery of our illusions."

However, when the lights came down, and the first images appeared on the screen, I knew that history was being made. It was nothing like I had ever seen before. It was personal, real, poetic, funny, sad... It was everything. It was a revolution! (The first battle-cry of the French New Wave. We all heard it!) We all knew it and began to applaud, even before the end of the movie, unable to contain our excitement.

Hell had been raised! A star was born! We all stood up and turned to look at cinema's new enfant prodige. He smiled, relieved, overjoyed, triumphant. And in the midst of the commotion (the likes of which have rarely been seen since), I could swear I saw him looking at me. Yes, our eyes met briefly. And I could see that he no longer was a scruffy kid. He had evolved into an auteur – TRUFFAUT! – the adventurer making works of love.

But perhaps it didn't happen. Perhaps our eyes never did meet that night. Perhaps, I wasn't even there. Maybe everything I wrote never actually happened.

And yet... I remember it so vividly. (I'm reliving it as I'm writing this.) I relive these memories every time I watch the movie. For it was, surely, a moment that changed my life.

To commemorate it, many years later...

A life later...

I tattooed the name TRUFFAUT on my arm, in the same font as the opening credits of his magnificent debut – a name that burnt the screen of the Cannes Film Festival like a lightning in 1959.

What a time to be alive... then as now!