Imagine being the princess and heir in a distant realm, and walking into your private rooms one day to find a man waiting for you. He introduces himself as Loki and informs you that your father assigned him to you as your personal servant. You’re annoyed by the information, having specifically told your father you didn’t want a personal servant, but decide to keep him anyway to spare him from being used as an example of what happens to those who displease the royal family. At first you treat him with the same cool detachment as the rest of the servants, wary that he’ll simply try to use you to better his position like everyone else, but as time goes on he proves himself different as he can relate and becomes a confidante and friend.
On the day you ascend to the throne, you free him from servitude and offer to send him wherever he wishes to go. Instead he asks to stay, having grown to care for you as much as you cared for him, and you offer him a position as you advisor, more than happy to make use of his sharp and cunning mind. He gladly accepts, knowing you would recognise and appreciate his talents like no one else had, much to the displeasure of your father’s council, who were hoping to manipulate you in order to rule through you. Together the two of you become a force to be reckoned with, as your kingdom thrives under your leadership.
The ‘gentleman pirate’ was an oddity among outlaws, considering he was a wealthy landowner until his mid-thirties. Then, suffering from some sort of midlife crisis, and perhaps growing tired of his wife’s nagging, Bonnet purchased a sloop, outfitted it with ten guns, and sailed away in the dead of night.
Bonnet knew very little of sailing. He relied on his crew to navigate and keep order, thus becoming an unpopular captain. After being outgunned by a Spanish ship, he set course for the pirate haven of Nassau, badly wounded.
Here, he met the notorious Blackbeard, who took control of his ship and invited Bonnet aboard his own as a ‘guest’. Eventually, Bonnet was tricked into accepting the Kings pardon, and returned to find that Blackbeard had plundered most of his treasure and sailed away.
Vowing to exact revenge, Stede returned to a life of pirating. Although he was never able to track down his former friend, he was able to capture a fair number of ships, thus bolstering his reputation.
Stede Bonnet was captured by the Royal Navy and hung in Charleston, after two years of adventure on the high sea.
hi! i'd love to hear what you think would have happened if wyldon hadn't let keladry stay after her first year!! love your writing :^)
“Mindelan, it may be that the best thing said of my tenure is that you were my student. Should that be the case, I am the wrong man for this post. I did all I could to get rid of you. Your probation was wrong. You know that, I know it. I was harder on you than any lad. Thank Mithros I remembered my honor and let you stay when you met the conditions—but it was a near thing. Next time, I might not heed the voice of honor.”
– Wyldon of Cavall (Squire)
Kel sat and thought about it all through the long summer– thought about joining the Riders when she turned sixteen, or going back to the Yamani Isles with her parents, or running away to become an unlawful bandit hunter.
She drank tea with her mother and accepted her quiet sympathy. She wondered what was going to happen to Peachblossom. She did her morning glaive practice dances in the heady air of the tiny courtyard garden of her parents’ townhouse, where the cook grew herbs and spices in big overflowing boxes.
Summer rolled on. She sat, and she thought, and she did not tell her thoughts to anyone. On the first day of what would have been her second year of page training, she woke before the sun and had a quiet breakfast with her father, and then she jogged up the big dusty hill to the palace grounds.
When the pages trailed out of the building to the practice yards with dubious enthusiasm, she was waiting just outside their ground. Her chin was high, her shoulders loose while her hands gripped her weighted staff.
“Probationer,” Wyldon barked out her, when one of the boys went to fetch him. “Was I unclear in the spring?”
Kel stared him down, fingers white on her staff, and said, “I’m not a probationer anymore.”
“She’s a private citizen, just enjoying the fresh air,” Neal called from the other side of the practice yard fence. He got armor cleaning punishment for a week for his cheek and Kel lifted and lowered and struck with her staff to the call of the masters. Her staff hit thin air. The clack of the pages’ staves colliding hit her ears.
“That’s palace property,” Wyldon said ten minutes in, and plucked the staff out of her grip, so Kel followed the lesson with empty hands and brought her mother’s spare walking stick the next day.
They started calling her trespasser, after that, and Kel stood calm on the public grounds just on the other side of the practice yard fence, practicing her high blocks.
While the pages had riding practice, she sat in the dirt outside the riding yard and did the homework Neal smuggled out for her. He handed the finished assignments in for her, too, even though only Myles and the one Mithran priest who had never learned anyone’s names graded them. She took notes on what riding exercises the masters were assigning the pages and watched Neal where he sat on Peachblossom’s back like a sack of mulish peanuts.
“When I heard you weren’t t’ be coming back,” Stefan the hostler told her. “I wasn’t sure what would happen to the old lad.”
“Me, either,” said Kel, looking down at her math and trying to keep her face smooth and still.
When the pages went in for their seated classes, Stefan let her take out Peachblossom to try to exercises herself. Days the gelding was too tired, he found other mounts for her and Kel learned all their names– gentle Aubrey and fastidious Starfall and distractible, clever Redding and poor anxious Terence, who almost threw her more than once. “He comes by the fidgets honest,” Stefan told her and Kel brought extra apples for Terence when she could.
She still took on Lalasa when Gower found her feeding the sparrows in the courtyard beside her old rooms and asked her. Her parents’ townhouse had the funds to hire another maid, though Kel didn’t need or want a personal servant.
Lalasa pinched Kel’s torn clothes from her room all the same and returned them better hemmed and beautifully mended. Kel barely saw her, though she tried to leave a coin from her allowance on the piles of clothes she thought the young woman was most likely to steal away next.
She didn’t ask for the help and she told herself she didn’t want it, but she jogged up the big dusty hill to the palace grounds every day with her weighted harness weighing on her shoulders.
She stood just outside the low fence of the practice yards and ignored Joren’s comments and Zahir’s sneers and the rebukes of the swordfighting teachers– distraction, they said. Lump, waste, failure.
The sun beat down on her aching shoulders and she thought I could stand here forever, thought you are just noise and wind, I am a mountain. I will be here long after you cease howling.
Neal landed blows on Joren’s fingers, apologizing blandly to the masters for his clumsinesses, because Kel had ordered him to get in no fights for her honor. The sun beat down on the careful stitches of Kel’s cotton shirt, which fit as perfectly as Lalasa could manage from a shy distance.
She told herself she didn’t want the help, didn’t need it. Her harness weighed down her shoulders, her makeshift staff weighed down her arms, but the cotton laid light and kind on her back.
25 May 2017 | King Felipe VI and Queen Letizia hosted a lunch for Princess Muna Al Hussein of Jordan (the mother of King Abdullah II) at the Zarzuela Palace, on the occasion of her private visit to Spain.
The third in line to the throne arrived for his first day at £18,000-a-year Thomas’s Battersea, where he will learn to “be kind”, acquire “confidence, leadership and humility” and not have a best friend to prevent other children having hurt feelings.
Anthro kitty royals from a private mindstorming thingy with my mother; she just hurled some ideas at me one day while I scrambled to note them all down as she went, and so here I am, painting kitties for a made-up universe where cats rule the world after the humans screwed up~ x3
I’m having such a hard time “painting” tho it ain’t even funny, someone give me a style already I’m fumbling in the dark here. u3u
Royal, Augusta, and Elizabeth were treated very much as the senior princesses; they were educated together and lived separately from their younger sisters. Mary and Sophia, the middle daughters, formed a tightly knit pair, whilst Amelia, the baby of the family, occupied an especially privileged position, somewhere between pet and mascot, fussed over and admired by all.
A Royal Experiment: The Private Life of King George III
- Janice Hadlow