maybe with a her own mistress

Take my whole life too

In the process, he learns a few things. First, the pup is most certainly a girl. Second, she’s a lovely golden color beneath the muck. Third, once she is clean and dry and fed and curled in front of the fire, snoring quietly, Vax can’t bring himself to leave her. Never let it be said Vex is the only twin with a soft spot for strays.

the working title for this was “vax adopts a dog” which is really all you need to know. vaxleth, 2.2K. title from “can’t help falling in love”

He finds the poor thing huddled under the eaves of the inn where he’s staying, comes back late in the dripping, seeping cold and only just notices the shifting shadows out of the corner of his eye. It’s a testament to the long hours he’s spent following his Lady’s mark that his first thought is to draw his dagger and slip towards the disturbance, silent as a wraith, until he gets close enough to make out––

Well, no dark being of undeath, anyways.

“Oh, you poor thing,” he murmurs, sheathing the dagger and paying no mind to how very much like Vex’ahlia he sounds as he crouches. “Oh, you poor poor thing. C’mere, I’m not gonna hurt you. C’mon, there’s a good boy.”

The pup shivers in the rain, caked with muck and whimpering pathetically. Vax waits patiently, hand outstretched as it slowly uncurls itself, damp nose stretching forward to bump against Vax’s hand.

“That’s a good boy,” he grins. “There you go. What d’you say we go inside, hmm?”

The pup whines as Vax carefully sets his hand beneath its midriff and lifts it up, cradling it against the damp leather of his armor (which is sure to stink to high heaven after this, but what’s new).

And so Vax and his newfound charge slip into the inn, and thunder cracks like gunfire and the pattering rain swells into the white noise of a steady downpour.

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Bluebird- Chapter 4

Prompt/Summary: This is the continuation of the album challenge fic. You know the boys before they go off to war.  This whole fic was actually inspired by the song and by this Gif set: http://mamalaz.tumblr.com/post/156497052177/mamalaz-howard-and-peggy-travel-to-the-future  

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: time travel (and me being shit at explaining it), cursing, I believe the phrase you are looking for is “God damnit, Bucky.” 

Word Count: 1011

Author’s Note:   I’m just making it worse, aren’t I.  One more chapter. 

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Originally posted by natpekis

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Unless you're a Wiccan, the three fold rule doesn't apply to you.

I like to think that Karma gives herself out in regards to the respective deed. So, say you kill someone with magic in cold blood. Two people you love might die. Maybe more. Karma is a fickle mistress, who subscribes to no rules but her own.

i-just-like-commenting  asked:

As I read you description of Renly's scheming to get Margaery to be Robert's mistress, how much of that do you think was his idea and how much was the Tyrells'? I tednt to read Renly as a (witting and willing) puppet of the Tyrells in their bid to get more power.

I think it was mostly (perhaps almost entirely) Renly’s idea. The Tyrells want power, yes, but they’re cautious about it. Well, partially cautious. For example:

Her grandmother snorted. “Gallant, yes, and charming, and very clean. [Renly] knew how to dress and he knew how to smile and he knew how to bathe, and somehow he got the notion that this made him fit to be king. The Baratheons have always had some queer notions, to be sure. It comes from their Targaryen blood, I should think.” She sniffed. “They tried to marry me to a Targaryen once, but I soon put an end to that.”
“Renly was brave and gentle, Grandmother,” said Margaery. “Father liked him as well, and so did Loras.”
“Loras is young,” Lady Olenna said crisply, “and very good at knocking men off horses with a stick. That does not make him wise. As to your father, would that I’d been born a peasant woman with a big wooden spoon, I might have been able to beat some sense into his fat head. […] It’s treason, I warned them, Robert has two sons, and Renly has an older brother, how can he possibly have any claim to that ugly iron chair? Tut-tut, says my son, don’t you want your sweetling to be queen? […] The thought that one day he may see his grandson with his arse on the Iron Throne makes Mace puff up like […a puff fish…] We should have stayed well out of all this bloody foolishness if you ask me, but once the cow’s been milked there’s no squirting the cream back up her udder. After Lord Puff Fish put that crown on Renly’s head, we were into the pudding up to our knees, so here we are to see things through.”

–ASOS, Sansa I

This discussion is of course about the Tyrells supporting Renly’s bid for king, but I think it also applies to Renly’s Margaery/Robert plot. While Mace might find the plan attractive, Olenna would consider the idea of throwing her sweet granddaughter into a den of lions in hopes she might succeed in turning Robert’s head and gaining a crown for hers absolutely appalling. (There’s the danger of Cersei knocking Margaery off, there’s the chance that the adultery/incest might not be provable, there’s a chance that Robert might make Margaery his mistress but not his new queen, or maybe he’d just love her and leave her like he does with most women, etc.) So I very much doubt it was a plan that the Tyrells came up with on their own and proposed to Renly.

Rather, I think Renly was visiting Highgarden, saw Margaery and heard something about how people were comparing her beauty and appearance to the proven royal-seducing Lyanna (which of course is B.S. but also Margaery doesn’t look a thing like Lyanna so, y’know, the romance of the Reach yadda yadda), and realized aha, here was the key he could use to influence Robert and get rid of Cersei. Maybe Loras played a small part too – like, “you’re unhappy with Cersei and Joffrey, why don’t you do something about it” – but he also was definitely Renly’s instrument in convincing his family to go along with the plan. Varys says Loras was writing to Mace, not the other way around. And also, Mace may be an ambitious pompous blowhard, but he doesn’t strike me as someone who’d come up with the idea to pimp out his daughter that way (unlike those who facilitated Aegon IV’s mistresses, like Lord Bracken with his daughters Barba and Bethany, or Lucas “the Pander” Lothson with his wife and daughter).

Note Renly also tells Stannis that he was planning to make Margaery Robert’s queen, he doesn’t blame it on the Tyrells or anything – and though that could just be his own “look how clever I am” taking credit for it, IMO it’s said too casually, as an admission of “yep, guilty, I had those plans all right”. Basically, I think it’s an extreme misread to think Renly was being manipulated by the Tyrells to give them power, or by anyone else. Everything he did was his own choices, alas.

fanfiction.net
Gajevy Week 2017: Gajeel of the Shinsengumi, a fairy tail fanfic | FanFiction
Some reincarnations are harder than others. Left behind in Kyoto at age five, Levy is a servant-girl in late Edo Japan (1864), at a time when girls are barely taught to write. When the Kyoto police known as the Shinsengumi raid the inn where she lives and works, how will she defend herself and her adopted family? Can she trust a certain black-haired, red-eyed police officer who seems to know magic when he sees it? Words: 2050

Bonus Prompt for January 31: AU (Alternate Universe)

Available at ff.net above or below under the image.



Chapter 1—Gajeel of the Shinsengumi

She couldn’t remember having a name other than Levy, and nobody called her that anyway. The first part wasn’t especially surprising, since under the laws of the Shogun, Lord Iemochi Tokugawa, only members of the samurai class were allowed to use a surname. The second part was also simply explained: the family that housed her, and more or less fed her, found the name ‘Levy’ too foreign for either safety or convenience; instead, they called her Aoi, meaning blue, which was the colour of her hair.

Levy remembered the day that her father had brought her to the Ikedaya, a mediocre inn found in the central part of the vast city of Kyoto. She didn’t know his name, because to her he had just been otosan,(1) but she wished he hadn’t left her in this place. He was the only person she’d ever known with hair like hers. Of course, he was probably dead now. It had been a dozen years since he had gone out to meet some friends and never come back. Ikeda-san was now the master of the house, instead of merely the heir. Levy didn’t like him much, but fortunately his mother was still alive and she had been the one to insist on keeping the girl in the first place. It was assumed that Levy’s father had been swallowed up by the dangerous streets of Kyoto like so many others.

The day had started out like many others: she’d gotten up before dawn, started the cooking fire, and taken her mistress her morning tea. At this point, Ikeda Keiko-san was the one person Levy cared about in the household. Keiko-san had been kind to Levy when her father hadn’t returned, and the only member of the family to return the tentative embraces of an affectionate child. There was a lot of gray in the woman’s hair now, but otherwise she wasn’t much changed. She had been stoic when her husband had died, but Levy thought that she was rather lonely, and didn’t approve much of her son’s friends. However, apart from refusing to be parted from Levy, she had acquiesced to all of her son’s orders: after all, he was a man and the head of the family.

“We have special guests arriving today, Aoi-chan,” Keiko remarked as she sipped her tea. “At least, my son thinks they are special, so he will want to have extra food and drink on-hand.”

“Yes, Keiko-san.”

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Switch. Irene Adler

Request: Hi! I may have sent this request in a month ago, but my memory is very bad, so please forgive me. Could I request an Irene Adler x female!reader story where the reader takes on the dominatrix role instead? Maybe include ropes and/or strap ons. I hope this is enough to work with, Lu! <3

Triggers: Smut. Sub!Irene

Word Count: 1318

Enjoy ;D

Originally posted by alexkeehl

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anonymous asked:

If you're an unwed knight with no lady love you're courting, what's the protocol for naming a Queen of Love and Beauty at a tourney? Do you have to name the noblewoman of highest rank there, like the queen should she be attending? Do you honor the wife or daughters of the host? Should you crown a relative of yours like your mum? Can you throw the flower crown like a bouquet into a group of ladies? If you have a bastard daughter, is it going to get you killed to crown her?

Thanks for the question, Anon.

That’s a good question, and unfortunately one limited by our relatively small pool of known Queens of Love and Beauty. We don’t know how required it is for a knight to honor a woman at a tourney, or how often it actually happens. Only four women were ever named by victors of tourneys as Queens of Love and Beauty - then-Queen Naerys, named by her brother Aemon; then-Princess Rhaella, named by Bonifer Hasty; Lyanna Stark, named by Prince Rhaegar; and Lynesse Hightower, named by Jorah Mormont - though Rhaenyra makes a possible fifth (Gyldayn says that, after the melee at Maidenpool in 104 AC, Ser Criston Cole gave Rhaenyra “the victor’s laurel”, though the archmaester does not explicitly name her Queen of Love and Beauty, and whether the same chivalric rules apply to melees as to jousts are unsettled in our knowledge of Westeros).

That being said, I think a good place to start thinking about this question is the thought Barristan has in ADWD concerning his plans for if he had won at Harrenhal:

Rhaegar had chose Lyanna Stark of Winterfell, Barristan Selmy would have made a different choice. Not the queen, who was not present. Nor Elia of Dorne, though she was good and gentle; had she been chosen, much war and woe might have been avoided. His choice would has been a young maiden not long at court, one of Elia’s companions…though compared to Ashara Dayne, the Dornish princess was a kitchen drab.

There’s a pretty clear calculus in Barristan’s head when thinking about the woman he would have honored: “not the queen”, followed by “nor Elia of Dorne" - that is to say, the crown princess, and with Rhaella the two highest-ranking women in Westeros. Barristan knows the chivalric rules in and out - he had done well in and/or won at least five major jousts/melees before Harrenhal - and so I think we can take his calculus as some baseline on what a knight “should” be thinking when he decides to crown a woman as Queen of Love and Beauty.

It’s sensible, after all, to think first of naming the highest-ranking woman present as Queen of Love and Beauty. On the one hand, it’s part of the game of courtly love: the victorious knight worshiping from afar the unreachable, supreme beauty that is the lady of the castle; the lady herself, at the summit of all vassals’ desires, accepts the strange role reversal - the subservient man and the ruling woman - while still remaining untouchable. There is, however, a more practical benefit than merely this amusing ideal. To suggest that another woman exceeds the highest-ranking lady there upsets this courtly balance, and may subsequently be seen as an insult - and in a land where personal relationships and gestures are so key to political decisions, a courtly insult to a high-ranking woman might effectively shut out a knight from great lordly favor, especially depending on how high the woman’s rank and how lowly the knight.

Now, that being said, there is some room for maneuverability within that calculus, depending on both the knight himself and the context of the tourney. Would, for example, Barristan Selmy’s naming Ashara Dayne the Queen of Love and Beauty at Harrenhal have been cause for sensation, even with Princess Elia present? I tend to think not: Ashara might have come below the princess she served in rank (although not so far - she was still a lady companion to the crown princess, after all), but she was not betrothed to any man, and Barristan himself, as a member of the Kingsguard, was (at least supposedly) celibate and wed only to his duty, so it may have seemed only a chaste acknowledgement of Ashara's evident beauty (and, as I’ll talk about in a second, there can be strong romantic/sexual overtones to the naming of a Queen of Love and Beauty). Conversely, Bran’s remembered story about Aemon the Dragonknight suggests that either King Aegon IV himself or (perhaps if Aegon had gotten too obese to joust) his loyal noble flunkies desired to crown Aegon’s current mistress as Queen of Love and Beauty; this would ordinarily be a gross violation of chivalric rules - crowning a mistress in front of a wife and queen - but was permitted, even encouraged, in the lascivious court of the Unworthy King. We don’t know if Queen Aemma was present for that meleee at Maidenpool, but even if she had been it might not have seemed so unorthodox for Criston Cole to offer her daughter, rather than the queen herself, the laurel: Rhaenyra was the Realm’s Delight, the courtiers’ pet, doted upon by all, including her royal father; Criston, no fool, might have supposed that honoring the king’s much-favored daughter would be a means of advancing his own standing in the king’s eyes.  

As I mentioned, though, there can often be an implicit romantic/sexual message contained in the choice of the Queen of Love and Beauty. Winning that crown gives a knight the chance to single out a woman in a great crowd of nobility as particularly beautiful and desirable, and for an unmarried man, such a move might be the first step toward declaring an interest in betrothing himself to this woman. It’s no coincidence, I think, that Lord Ashford threw his infamous tourney to celebrate his maiden daughter’s thirteenth nameday (a traditional age for betrothals among highborn maids) and made her the initial queen of love and beauty: doubtless he was hoping that the eventual winner, instead of declaring a new queen, would confirm her as Queen of Love and Beauty, perhaps even think of her as a potential bride. Jorah’s case is a more obvious example, with Jorah not only singling out the Maiden of Oldtown for the honor but then using his winning to ask for her hand. Moreover, I think it needs little repeating how wildly rule-breaking Rhaegar’s actions were at the Tourney of Harrenhal: as crown prince and a seeming living embodiment of chivalry, he passed over his own wife (the crown princess, no less, to go back to the first point) and honored the fiancée of his future bannerman, the Lord of Storm’s End - perhaps appearing, to the onlookers, as though he were offering to make Lyanna his official mistress.  

In terms of some of the specific scenarios suggested … maybe, depending on what the champion wanted to say with his gesture. Tourneys, after all, are public stages for the nobility, a rare opportunity for a good number of different Houses to gather in a single place; at the moment when a Queen of Love and Beauty is named, a knight has a singular chance to have all eyes focused on him and his actions. Maybe, for example, a young (and unmarried) lord who had just come out of his regency would offer the crown to his mother, in testament to her importance as his regent (though some onlookers might wonder why he did not have his eye on any of the eligible women who would certainly be present). On a related note, I could see where Brandon Stark might have chosen his sister had he won the day at Harrenhal, and the choice not have been a scandaous one: with his Tully fiancée probably not present, the sister of whom he seemed to be fond was a natural choice, reinforcing the closeness of the Stark clan (and with Aemon, there is precedent for a brother honoring a sister). A bastard daughter would be much harder - a champion would be risking offending every woman of noble rank present by placing a bastard above them, even in the symbolic context of a tourney crowning - though in a very debauched court like that of Aegon IV (not his precisely, since Aegon seemed to care little for his bastard daughters, but one like it), perhaps such a gesture would not have seemed so scandalous. I doubt, however, that any knight would have merely tossed the crown into a crowd, again given the uniqueness of this opportunity to send a message (unless his only options were undesirable to him, but then I can think of better gestures he could make - say, piously declaring at his victory that he would grant the crown only to the Maiden, fairest of all women).

Suffice to say, I think the crowning of the Queen of Love and Beauty depends on both the knight and the context of the tourney. Who is he - as exalted as a prince, or as lowly as a hedge knight looking to make a name for himself as a tourney champion? Who is present among the ladies, and what is the champion’s relationship to the greatest of them? Is the champion married, and if so is his wife present? Most of all, what sort of message does that knight want to send to the assembled nobility? The answers to these questions would determine what he did with the all-important crown.

The Queen Regent (NFriel)

sabraeal  asked:

After months of training, Shirayuki finally lands a hit on Obi (maybe not necessarily during practice)

Ow.

Shirayuki pulled her hand back, eyes fluttering as she looked at the spot on his shoulder that she had hit. Wait. Wait. She had actually gotten in a hit? That… that wasn’t possible. Obi stumbled a few steps back and looked at her through the narrow slits of his eyes as he heaved out a sigh that didn’t quite sound like defeat and more like… pride? Her heart swelled at the thought that maybe he really was proud of her, and she was helpless against the smile that pulled at her lips.

[more under the cut]

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bisexuality for everyone, or: the vita sackville-west story

Vita Sackville-West: Violet, Virgina, and all the others

Marriage is one of those things that just fascinates me, particularly as marriage equality becomes more and more of a reality (yay). I don’t really see the appeal of a piece of paper saying that I’m essentially contractually bound to someone, on pain of losing tons of cash in a divorce. Still, I expect I’ll do it, partially because—in America, at least—marriage on paper brings a lot of legal advantages that I’d like to indulge in, and partially because I like me-centric parties. Also I’m really into wedding dresses. And wedding cake.

Still, what makes marriage so special? Legal marriage. Because, in a sense, isn’t anyone who commits to one’s partner “married”? (Not that marriage equality isn’t important, because everyone should have the same legal rights no matter what the gender of their partner.) But yeah. What I’m getting at is “Portrait of a Marriage” by Vita-Sackville West (via her personal journals and writings) and her son, Nigel Nicolson. The marriage in question? That of Vita and Nigel’s father, Harold Nicolson. They were both rather upper-crust, rather snobby (particularly in Vita’s case) and rather rich. They were also—both–rather bi.

BI THE WAY

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@crackedgates

Meiling followed her traditional path through the mansion whenever she needed to find Remilia, passing the library to ensure she hadn’t picked to visit Patchouli. The kitchen, the halls, the upper floor balcony to watch the moon, she wasn’t anywhere but luckily Meiling’s final stop was the vampire’s own room.

Sounds of stumbling were heard, enough to prompt Meiling’s increased pace. Though what she’d come across as she rounded the corner would surprise her, it would surprise anyone to see their mistress wandering aimlessly with her hands outstretched.

“Mistress?” You called again, moving towards her unsure if maybe Remilia had begun sleep walking possibly. “Mistress? Are you alright?” She repeated her call, moving quickly to the other’s side to bend down as the other’s eyes didn’t seem to be following her. “Remilia-sama? Meiling is here, what’s wrong?”

You were startled when Meiling started to speak, and even jumped slightly and tensed a lot when you thought that the gatekeeper got closer.

She seems to know you, though, but…Mistress?…Remilia-sama?…you recall that someone told you that you were supposed to be the Mistress of this Mansion, so maybe this is one of your servants…or someone trying to trick you.

You tried to look up to where the voice was coming from, before taking a step back and letting your hands to scoot closer to your chest.

“M-Meiling?…are you…one of my servants?…” It was obvious that you were nervous; not being able to see a thing when you could before…that was really scary, and you were just a human.

“I-I can’t see anything…I-I am so scared…”

anonymous asked:

since you were talking about that, genuine question (I don't want to start a fight or anything!): was Henry VII unfaithfull to Elizabeth? did he have mistress(es)?

*MY TIME HAS COME TO SHINE*

short answer: no. there is nothing, no account, no record, no proof supporting the idea that Henry was unfaithful to Elizabeth.

long answer: He is one of the rare kings who doesn’t have a recorded mistress.
Nowadays, there is this tendency in fiction to paint Henry as a lecher and lusty man (????), and more precisely, as having an passionate affair with Katherine Gordon, the wife of the pretender Perkin Warbeck that threatened his reign during almost 10 years. A woman that became later lady-in-waiting of Queen Elizabeth.
So i will talk mainly about her since this silly idea is what i found in almost EVERY accusation of Henry cheating on his wife.
I will say it plain: nothing happened between them and there is ABSOLUTELY NO EVIDENCE or contemporary rumors of an affair between Henry and Katherine or any other woman. 
some facts: Katherine was close to James King of Scots, a kinswoman of the scottish Monarch. Knowing the relationship between England and Scotland (to be short: very complicated ones), she couldn’t be treated badly at Court —on the contrary. So she gained a high place in the Ladies in waiting of the Queen and was treated with respect following the King’s demand. Maybe it was even a way to watch after her as she was the wife of the prentender’s Warbeck. Furthermore, she was known to be highborn, kind and pretty. These reasons could explain the good treatment she received.
Let’s be honest: Henry was a man and did enjoy the sight of the beauty of women. There is this letter he sent to Spain before Katherine of Aragon joined England to marry his son where he asked that the spanish ladies escorting her had to be pretty and at least ‘not ugly’. Or when after Lizzie’s death, he sent letters asking precisely the physical description of the different candidates for a possible new marriage (like the shape, hair, breast, waist…). And there is another anecdote, when he received a beautiful Princess from Portugal, and he welcame her with an embrace ‘a little bit too long’ (i laughed so much at this one :D). So yeaaaaah, he enjoyed pretty and beautiful women, particulalry at the Court. And Katherine is depicted as beautiful… so Henry could have wanted that her stay was pleasant. But that’s all! Henry trusting and seducing the wife of pretender who fought him during a decade? it is quite hard for me to imagine from a man like him… it’s Henry VII we are talking about! and believe me, it would have be noted somewhere if Henry was lusting after another woman at Court.
They could have been acquaintances or even friends. Why not? Man/woman friendship exists. Maybe he was even charmed at some points by her but Henry was clearly devoted to Elizabeth during their marriage and cared profoundly for his wife (you just had to read any biography or account and you will get how much he was). And do you think that EoY, Queen of England, ruling over her own household, would have kept the mistress of her husband by her side? no. it would have been so humiliating. IIRC, Katherine of Aragon, wife of henry VIII, dismissed Anne Boleyn as soon as she perceived Anne was a real threat for her marriage…
Being a high born lady from Scotland. Henry couldn’t permit her to be badly treated as she was close to the scottish King. Some people like to use the ‘Henry bought her expensive gowns’ as an evidenc of him being smitten but *BREAKING NEWS* Kings regularly bought expensive clothes to their wives’ attendants! Interesting to notice that the few dresses he bought to Katherine happened around the period the discussion for an alliance between England and Scotland started. Clothes were made for her as the companion of Margaret Tudor, daughter of Henry, for her marriage with James IV of Scotland. Spending money on the ladies-in-waiting or dancers or minstrel was something common for him. He was not a miser when it was for the prestige of his Court.
For what happened after Elizabeth’s death, perhaps they spent time together, bonding over Elizabeth’s memory and Henry held fondness for her (when she joined the Court the first time, he asked that Katherine had to be treated ‘like a sister’ and i do think that he percevied her as a victim of Perkin’s plan, feeling sorry for her -a highborn mady married to a liar) and i think that they became friends, a sort of pleasant companionship for Henry. They played cards together and she even give him a present a few days before his death.
A Scots chronicler/ambassador –with his own agenda– wrote about that time they spent some time together after the Queen’s death, that one ”would have thought they were secretly married…” but this account was written 20 years after Henry’s death, in Scotland -not very reliable for me. Sadly, the whole Katherine Gordon bullshit comes from this very ‘reliable’ account (and the gowns) and i am like WTH?!! ‘Looking secretely married’ means she is mistress?? LMAO please.
Furthermore, Henry’s household was right next door to his son’s rooms, so if something ever happened between them (or with any other woman), Prince Henry -and ourself- would have known now if she was his mistress. And the King was feeble and weak, his condition more and more deficient since his wife’s death. Having a mistress now would have been almost incongruous (i have already difficulties to picture him sexually active XD).
Catherine didn’t remain at the Court all the times after Elizabeth’s death and left the palace like the rest of the ladies in waiting, but she visited the court regularly. And she had to wait 1510, during Henry VIII’s reign, to obtain letters of denization to be considered as a English citizen, including the right to hold land… If Henry was truly smitten by her, he could have at least given her these simple rights but he didn’t. Catherine was technically a prisoner.
So really, i don’t picture them as lovers AT ALL since nothing support this idea. Close acquaintances, why not? She indeed visited him, talking, playing cards with him, and even visiting him a few days before his death to offer him clothes, but she clearly acted like a nurse, a companion, a support. Not as a lover at all. I am not an historian. I can’t be 100% sure but this is my viewpoint with all i know about Henry and Elizabeth, and the evidences we have.
But even if Katherine became his mistress after the Queen’s death (which is aboslutely not supported by facts!! it’s just a big ‘WHAT IF’) it doesn’t change the love between Henry and Lizzie. I mean, he died little by little during 6 longs years without his wife, workaholic, his health and character degrading slowly, turning into ‘the Winter King’… it shows us clearly how much he cared and needed and LOVED his Queen. And if Henry took a mistress, why not a new wife then? Knowing Henry’s fear to have just one and only son as heir, knowing his fear for his dynasty and his want to keep the throne, knowing his love for money, he could have remarried for political purpose, to strenghten his position as King and to gain a new dowry as well –or just by personal comfort.
But no. He didn’t, despite being something expected for King. He never remarried and that shows his grief and devotion and maybe fear to suffer again (after the loss of his beloved son & wife).

in conclusion: NO CONTEMPORARY ACCOUNT OR RUMOR OR EVEN FACTS SUPPORT THE IDEA THAT HE HAD MISTRESSES.
NOTHING EXCEPT PURE FICTION AND SPECULATION!!


voilà! i hope my answer please you anon :)

anonymous asked:

Oh my gosh pls write a blurb or ficlet or fic of that au that line is delicious and the setting makes me swoon

Referring to this.

Alas, I am not actually that equipped to write Gangster AUs *sighs sadly*. I don’t watch much of them and don’t know an awful lot about the ins and outs of what would go into making a story or fic out of one.

All I know is I want professional criminal!Stiles Stilinski who wears the most ridiculous suits and Derek Hale, mistress/manstress to the most notable crime bosses around. 

Maybe one night, Stiles is asked to “take care” of the one and only Kate Argent who has been stealing large sums of money from her own family. She is an ally of no one and hated by everyone but it isn’t until the Hale family dies in a “mysterious” fire is Stiles hired by her own brother to get rid of her, a disgrace to his family name. After all, the Hales were good people - powerful, too - and he doesn’t want his name associated with his sister’s.

However, when Stiles finally tracks Kate down, his plans go a little askew as he finds not only Kate already dead, but Derek sitting in the corner; a gun in his hands, blood everywhere, and shaking. 

It takes precisely two seconds for Stiles to recognise Derek as Derek Hale - now, the last of the Hales. It was only a rumour Derek had been Kate’s most recent play thing but now, Stiles figures, it’s the truth and his stomach twists in sympathy. Kate Argent just murdered Derek’s entire family while she had been sleeping with him. Briefly, Stiles considers the possibility Derek played a part in his own family’s death but if the hollow look in his eyes is anything to go by, plus Kate’s dead body with many, many bullet holes in it, Stiles thinks he can safely assume Derek had no idea what Kate was going to do.

Unfortunately for Derek, he’s not made a very good job of making this what Stiles likes to call a “simple murder”. The reason people hire Stiles is because he’s not only perfect when it comes to prep work but he has a special talent for “the clean up”. Well, Stiles likes to maintain the illusion he’s wickedly skilled when it comes to getting rid of the evidence but the truth is blood kind of makes Stiles’ stomach churn and even though he has earned a solid reputation as the “go to blood man” - seriously, no one could come up with a better name? - he’s actually just supremely precocious and takes his prep work very seriously. His dad used to be a cop before he was killed, so he knows a lot of tricks. Clean ups on the other hand, not so much Stiles’ thing. 

Fast forward to Stiles awkwardly trying to clean Derek up because there is something about Derek Stiles just can’t bear to leave behind and take the fall for this, even though he knows Derek killing Kate would suit Chris Argent just as well as Stiles doing it. Nevertheless, Stiles can’t leave Derek and after a very, very botched attempt at getting rid of the body - mostly botched because Derek is in some kind of shock where he keeps trying to return to the crime scene and Stiles can’t help but be more focused on making sure he’s okay than focusing on the body - they manage to make their escape. Well, Stiles does. Derek just looks…sad as Stiles leads him away.

Stiles kind of wishes he looked less sad because then he might have been more inclined to just take Derek somewhere and leave him with some cash rather than take him home. Stiles knows it’s a bad idea, anyone could have seen them, but when Derek curls up on Stiles’ bed, clutching the single pillow on it so, so tight…yeah, Stiles can’t do anything but sit beside Derek on the floor and gently card his fingers through Derek’s hair, like Parrish did for him when he was a kid and the news came in his father had been shot. 

Truthfully, I have no idea where I’d go with this. Maybe they’d go on the run. Maybe Stiles goes back for the body, to get rid of it properly with a clearer head (maybe to use magic on it - magic he hasn’t used since he was a boy and his mother died after something he did) only to discover it’s missing, a trail of blood leading away from where he dumped it… 

Of course, a lot of unintentional bed sharing will ensue with Stiles holding Derek through his nightmares. 

There will be one instance where Stiles makes Derek laugh and Stiles feels it light him up from the inside, from his head to his toes and he has to leave the room because oh no

There will be several near-kisses which Stiles never lets happen because Derek is grieving and it would be wrong to take advantage of him, even with something as simple as a kiss. That doesn’t stop Stiles from staring into Derek’s eyes every single time he leans in to him though, thoroughly hypnotised. Stiles spends a lot time trying to work out the colour of Derek’s eyes. 

There will be precisely two times Derek puts his head in Stiles’ lap and talks to him without being prompted; talks about past lovers, mostly crime bosses who fancied a kept boy, a pretty young thing on their arm for a few months here and there. He never talks about Kate or his family but, then again, Stiles can’t blame him. 

There will be several months of looking over their shoulders and healing, in which time Stiles reads to Derek from a book he’s writing and Derek teaches Stiles how to slow dance. Stiles is hopeless at dancing but Derek doesn’t exactly mind, not with Stiles’ arms around him, keeping him safe, day by day feeling more and more like home.

There will be exactly ten occasions of hand holding and three where, exhausted, Derek buries his face in Stiles’ neck when his thoughts get too loud and letting go, sobs against Stiles until his eyes run dry, muttering over and over again my fault, my fault, my fault

There will be two almost I-love-yous but we won’t say from whom. 

One person will get shot and another kidnapped. There will be teary goodbyes and long, lingering looks but - as always - a happy ending. 

Maybe.

Probably. 

Most likely.

~

(Alternatively, you can ignore everything above and just imagine Stiles in a 1930s suit who can never take his eyes off of the boss’ “boy”, Derek Hale, who snarks with Stiles like he was born for it and blushes as beautifully and deeply as the fairest, finest rose. Naturally, an affair ensues which neither of them can bear to break off, not even when Stiles’ past catches up with him and forces Derek to choose: protect the man he thought he knew, or spend the rest of his life wondering what if.) 

in-spirational  asked:

CS numbers 5 and 8 in the same fic, please??

Title: Wanna Bet?

Rating: T for language at the very most

A/N: So when I said I was almost done with this, I meant I was basically done with this and went back and edited it since I had trouble sleeping last night. XD Enjoy this one for now and I will have so much fun writing the prompt you just sent me (and the LD prompt that’s still sitting in my inbox that I’ve been getting ideas for)!! 

Prompts in question were “Wanna bet?” and “Wait a minute, are you jealous?” but I wouldn’t even begin to remember where the list is in my archives. 


“What happened?” he asks as she sits down heavily on the stool next to him.

“Got stood up.” She’s lying. “You?”

“The girl texted and cancelled right before I got to the restaurant.” He’s also lying.

“Well, then here we are,” Emma says, and she and Killian hold up a finger each to indicate drink orders to the bartender.

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eden x conrad • closed starter for @hurricaneindies

        This party was so out of her wheelhouse, okay? Sparkly dresses and cocktails without little umbrellas on top were way too fancy, and Eden felt her skin crawling every time she heard some high society mistress refer to a friend as “dah-ling,” with a totally fake British accent. People actually enjoyed this?

       Still, Audrey asked her to come as some twisted third wheel on a second date which, yeah, didn’t make sense in the least, but - not to toot her own horn or anything - Eden was an amazing sister and definitely the best, most selfless Price child.

       So she was here. At a party in a hotel ballroom standing in the corner like a creeper watching the crowd ebb and flow around her. It was a charity function (maybe?) and Eden didn’t pay for her own seat, so she wasn’t really bothered with paying any attention. Everyone knew these functions were more about who was wearing who rather than the cause.

       Eden, for the record, was rocking a vintage maxi she found at a thrift store three days ago. It was probably like, 4 years out of season (if she was being generous), but it looked good, cost $4 and didn’t suffocate her. All good things.

       She looked around the room, nodding politely when a stranger met her eyes, then stopped when she saw someone familiar at the bar. Something about his face was familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Never one to let a sleeping man lay (figuratively, obviously), Eden stepped up and set her half-full glass of soda water on the bar next to him.

       “Hi there. Hey,” she started, all manners forgotten. “Sorry. I… have we met? Because I totally recognize your face but I can’t remember if it’s because I know you or if I saw you on Instagram or at a show or something.”

      “It was probably Instagram, wasn’t it? You look like the type that would show up on my explore page.”

So I wrote a Missy/Clara drabble

It had to come out. Also this ship needed some fic and when the going gets rough… Well I try to supply lol. I’m by no means a good writer, but I hope this hits some sort of spot. Anyhow, this drabble is somewhat dirty? But nothing graphic. Just thought I’d mention.

“What are you doing?!” Clara yelled, alarmed at the sight of Missy, donning a long simple night dress, her usual up-do undone and her soft, loose curls framing her face like a lion’s mane, climbing into bed with her and sliding up against her back.


“What does it look like? I’m going to beddy-bye.” Missy drawled.

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FitzSimmons: Out of the Blue V

(By which I mean short scenes that may or may not come with context, though I am so chuffed by the potential puniness of this title!)

(OotB I: The Stark Industries AU) (OotB II: The Author/Reader AU) (OotB III: The Ill-fated Adventure AU) (OotB IV: Late-Night Supermarket Shelf-Stackers AU)

Hogwarts Staff AU

The trip from Durmstrang had been hell. What possessed Fitz to take his broomstick across the Baltic he’d never know. Perhaps it was the bloody-minded Quidditch player in him - he couldn’t say no to a challenge.

He quickly dried off his navy blue robes with his wand and navigated the castle hallways with accustomed ease despite the thirteen years that had passed since he’d last set foot inside.

As he approached he could hear the buzz of excited conversation from the Great Hall.

The first feast he’d attended at Hogwarts was still one of Fitz’s fondest memories. Born to a Muggle mother (who’d been nothing short of delighted when he’d received his letter at eleven), beginning at Hogwarts freed him from being the square peg in the round hole that was his Muggle school experience.

From the moment the Sorting Hat placed him in Gryffindor House the comparisons had begun flooding in. Of course, he hadn’t survived an attack by the now-defeated Dark Lord as an infant and again and again until his seventh-year of school, but so much else seemed to fit. A gifted seeker, a brilliant mind and a natural aptitude for magic along with a special knack for getting himself into trouble, Fitz had been Hogwarts’ golden child from the moment of his arrival to the moment of his graduation complete with a full compliment of impressively record-breaking N.E.W.T.S. Two more recent gold-lettered names stood over the H. Granger of 1998 on the mahogany Board of Astoundingly Astute Academic Achievement.

He had not, of course, been alone in gaining this raft of accolades. By his side, almost from the moment he stepped onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters, had been the student who, from Day One, was consistently compared to that long-past brightest witch of her age.

Brave and brilliant, Jemma Simmons had been the best friend a young wizard could ask for. Together they had astounded professors and eclipsed classmates. Together they were twice as smart and brave and resourceful. The familiarity of the stone corridors wasn’t as warm without her, Fitz thought glumly.

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“It’s with a heavy heart that have decided to retire as anchor and weather woman here at RGN. I know this will disappoint many of you but I feel that it’s my time to move on and explore new possibilities. I’ve had a wonderful time being your go-to weather woman and reporter and I appreciate all the support from the fans I’ve received over the years. I hope you all can understand and will continue to support me in the future. Thank you all so much and now we will continue with our regularly scheduled broadcast.”

((Alright guys so this is it. I’ve brought it up a few times now over the last month but Janna as a muse has been losing steam for me for a while now. Her lore is pretty contained and she doesn’t have many relationships to delve into other than her apparent friendship with Lux. (Which I did get into but my Lux recently retired her muse as well) I’ve explored a lot with Janna and her character and personality and tried to put a few of my own spins on things that I thought fit the character and hope you all have enjoyed it. But I just don’t know where to go from here with her. The silly posts have begun to grow dull and repetitive with Janna being done, forever alone, or defending her sexual orientation. All of which were funny before but have grown tired.

Even with all that said I still love Janna. I love her character and I’ve loved playing her and interacting with so many of you over the last 18 months or so. Also fear not! I’ll still be around! I’m going to be shifting my attentions fully onto my OC blog eliminate-zaun-gray. Munday prompts and stream announcements will be there from now on. And as for my ooc posts I’m thinking I’ll probably get to making a proper ooc blog so I can spam more without it taking away from Ko and what not. I’ll post that here as well when I get around to making it.

I apologize to the threads I still had going and who have been waiting for weeks for replies. And I’m really sorry to have to do this right as I pass 2000 followers. It hurts typing this but I don’t want to stick around on Janna only to make less than stellar posts every now and then.

Before I go I gotta make two things clear: I haven’t forgotten the commissions I owe. I plan on streaming a few tomorrow. You can still contact me here or on Ko or my personal art blog the-genki-mistress. And lastly I don’t know for sure right now if this is good bye to Janna as a muse forever. Maybe Riot will do something interesting with her in the future when they get around to her lore and that could bring me back. Or maybe I may just find her again someday on my own. But I can’t promise anything for sure.

So thank you all for following me, supporting me over the blogs lifetime, watching me progress and helping me out when I was in need. I’ve met many wonderful friends through this blog and I cherish every moment I’ve spent putting into it.

Good bye, my friends. I hope to see you around still on my other muse. And thanks.))

Unwedded Lodging

Anonymous asked: Jamie and Claire 1940s - trying to find lodgings which will let an unmarried couple have a room together.

Oooh I love this idea!! Brilliant one, anon!


It was raining. Our car had a flat tire. It was cold. My feet hurt. And I was more than a little drunk and in serious need of the man slogging along beside me.

“Well this is awfully romantic,” I said, a little sharply.

“It’s Scotland, Sassenach. It’s always raining.”

“Yes, but when you told me there’d be a warm fire, I didn’t think it would be in a fire pit in the middle of the forest. I thought you’d take me to a nice hotel.”

“I’m sorry, Claire. I didna think it would be this bad.”

Huffing, I kept walking. Something was twinkling in the distance. Lights. Oh thank God!

“Look. There’s a wee in ahead. We’ll get a room for the night.”

“And then you’ll perhaps finish what you started?”

He looked down at me and smirked.

“Aye. I left ye in want, did I no?”

“You did. Very much.”

“Good. Then I can serve ye properly. Once I can feel my toes again.”

We made it to the little inn. A kindly old woman was at the front desk, her round cheeks slightly rosy. 

“Och! Looks like ye got stuck in the rain! Come in, dears. I’ve got a wee fire going in the parlor.”

“I thank ye, mistress,” Jamie said, bowing his head to her.

We sat by the fire until we stopped shaking. Our coats and boots were hung up and left to dry.

“Now then,” the woman said, bringing a tray full of tea over to us. “I’ve got two rooms ready for ye, here’s the key for ye, my dear. And for ye, kind sir.”

I stared blankly at the large brass key in my hand.

“Um…”

“Mistress,” Jamie said sweetly. “We didna want two rooms.”

“I expect ye didna. But I dinna see any rings on either o’ ye. So it’s the two rooms I have.”

“We are engaged to be marriet,” he said.

“Och, many congratulations to ye both! But ye arena married yet.”

Jamie sighed.

“If ye wish for a lodging place that will let ye fornicate wi’out being wed, I suggest ye look elsewhere.”

I groaned as she walked away, leaving both keys on the little table. I gave Jamie a flat look. This was not how I’d expected our night to go.

“We could stay here. Or look for another inn.”

“You dragged me out into the pouring rain. I don’t feel like walking to another inn, miles away.”

“Then it looks like we’ll spend the night separately.”

“Unless I sneak into your room.”

“A wee vixen, that’s what you are, Sassenach.”

Once we’d drunk our tea, which did wonders to warm us both up, we stood and smiled at the old woman.

“I thank ye again, Mistress.”

“My pleasure, sir. I wouldna want ye to fall into sin because I didna lift a hand to stop ye.”

“And ye will be blessed for it, I have nae doubt.”

We went up the stairs, keeping an appropriate amount of space between us. Once we found our rooms, I put my coat and shoes into mine and went down two doors to his.

He was sitting on the bed when I walked in.

“It squeaks,” he said, demonstrating.

“The bloody woman did it on purpose!”

“Aye, it would seem so.”

“My bed is probably just as bad.”

“It’s verra likely.”

I huffed. The whiskey was still bubbling in my blood and I wanted him badly.

“We might have t’ sleep separately tonight, Sassenach. I’m sorry.”

“No. We can be on the floor.”

“The floor?”

“It won’t squeak. But please, Jamie.”

He nodded and began unbuttoning his shirt. Then he was kissing me, his mouth hungry for mine. His hands searched for the back of my skirt, but between the wet and the cold he was clumsy. Instead, I hiked my skirt up and peeled off my underwear.

“Christ Almighty,” he breathed, his hand snaking between my legs. “God Claire, I need ye so.”

He silenced my noises with his mouth, absorbing them as best he could. I was suddenly on the floor, my legs spread wide for him. I reached down to his trousers and felt his stiffness there.

A knock at the door had us both freezing in place.

“Ah, sir? Sir I forgot to have ye sign the guest book. I dinna ken yer name.”

“Fraser. James Fraser.”

“Aye, Mister Fraser. I thank ye. But I still need ye t’ sign my wee book.”

Jamie looked down at me and I glared. If he was going to sign for one room, I would likely have to sign for the other. Begrudgingly, he got up and opened the door a crack. I pushed myself out of sight.

“I thank ye, Mister Fraser.”

“My pleasure, mistress.”

“Is yer betrothed around? I went t’ see if she’d sign my book too, but she didna answer the door.

“I’ll sign for them both, mistress. I willna force my fiancé to pay for the room herself. It isna gentlemanly.”

“Och yer a sweet lad,” the old woman said. “She’s a lucky lass, to have caught yer eye. I’m sure ye’ve had a good many lasses chasin’ yer heels.”

“Aye, I have. Have a lovely night, Mistress.”

“Thanks to ye, Mister Fraser.”

Jamie closed the door and locked it quickly, before she could come back. When he turned to me, he was smiling.

“Ye look very bonny, wi’ yer legs spread like that.”

“Jamie,” I moaned. “Please!”

He knelt down in front of me and moved his trousers out of the way. I thought I might burst when he was finally inside me.

“Hush, woman! Or the old woman will come back and beat us wi’ a Bible!”

“Just make it quick. Please!” I hissed.

As always, he did what I asked. It was over far too soon, but I felt better. I’d at least be able to sleep now. I started to curl up against him, but he was pushing me away as he stood.

“No, Sassenach. Ye canna stay here tonight.”

“What? Why not?”

“The woman will no doubt be by yer room in the morning to see ye down to breakfast.”

I rolled my eyes and stood, tugging my skirt back in place.

“Fine. But next time, I’m planning the overnight trip.”

“Sounds good t’ me. I’ll see ye in the morning, my love.”

I slipped out of his room and snuck on tip toe down to mine. I still smelled of him, felt his weight and heat on my body. I fell into a deep and restful sleep.

In the morning, however, I realized I had nothing else to wear except the clothes I’d been in the previous day.

As Jamie had predicted, the old woman knocked on my door.

“Oh! Good morning to ye, dear. Would ye like to accompany me down to breakfast?”

“I would, very much thank you.”

I locked the room behind me and heard Jamie’s door close.

“Sassenach! Ye’re up!”

I turned and smiled at him.

“Did you sleep well, Jamie?”

“Like a wee bairn. Good morning to ye, Mistress.”

“Good morning, Mister Fraser. I was glad to see your woman in her own room this morn. I was worriet last night, ye see.”

“Aye, I appreciate yer help, keeping us right afore God, Mistress.”

The old woman stood up a little taller and bustled down ahead of us.

“Ye left somethin’ wi’ me last night, Sassenach,” he hissed in my ear.

“What?”

He pressed his hand to mine and I felt my underwear. I hastily stuffed them into my pocket.

“I kept them hid for ye, Sassenach. Next time we’re sneakin’ around, though, maybe ye’d take all yer things wi’ ye?”

“I will. And thank you for letting me sneak in last night.”

“I couldna say no to ye, Claire.”

Switch Hitter || 1-27-16

As she walked beside Spencer on the way back to the Mistress’ suite, Allison tried to calm her nerves.  Being touched - especially being touched first - made her profoundly uncomfortable, and yet she’d volunteered to accompany Spencer to her suite and be submissive for her.  Part of her knew that, despite the other woman’s assurances that she shouldn’t think of it as part of her job, Allison did anyway.  She was to keep the Masters and Mistress’ satisfied, especially if she actually planned on making a claim.  She didn’t want to submit that paperwork and have a black mark on her record from when she’d turned down a simple request that ruined everything.

They’d stopped briefly at her own suite, where she’d changed into a short white negligee covered by a white silk robe - easy for Spencer to undo when the time came.  The material skimmed her thighs with each step, and she tried to swallow her fears.  Maybe a night of submission would help with her issues.  And if not, it wasn’t going to make them worse.  At least she hoped not.  “Thank you for suggesting the massage,” she smiled over at the Mistress.  “That was lovely.”

@miss–spencerhastings

What Does Milady Want?

(thoughts as of Series 2 “Emilie”, some of which began in a fanmail to reblogginhood)

Glenn Close once said that we learn the most about a character when they are alone: when they have no one to perform for (I believe she was talking about her character’s solo shower scene in The Big Chill, which I cannot recall was cut from the final film or not)

We’ve seen Milady ‘alone’ on the show exactly twice (do call me out if I am forgetting something), once outside the tavern just before she goes in to reconcile w/ Sarazin, then, waking alone in a bed in the palace.

Her distaste in being outside that tavern, about to re-acquaint herself with Sarazin and her past life (though we do not know if it is a life before Athos or in the time after Athos and before Richelieu), is obvious. She doesn’t want to be there. (Nor, we realize now after her interlude w/ Rochefort in the gardens, does she wish to take over the traffic/position of a person like Sarazin. She’s Chow Yun Fat in The Killer: one more job and I’m out)

The bed in Emilie, though–she’s absolutely exultant. We’ve never seen her that without artifice–that free. She’s (and this seems an unexpected word to use for her) delighted. She not only wants to be there, she wants to stay there. 

Stay being mistress to the King–'paying’ for her position? I do wonder where that might head…how long will Milady be happy to play that role? (and, as we also saw, ONLY that role?) Forever? Until he tires of her or finds her out? [Because for all the Nell Gwynnes in the world there are countless, nameless other women who played mistress to kings.Whose names we recall not at all. A King’s favor seldom endures.) She serves Louis now, in a different way, but still, as she served the Cardinal ('I am a soldier, too). Both men who served France. So, yes, one might try to spin that there’s something patriotic in Milady.

Will Louis even car that she is Athos’ wife? (It is entirely possible that even were Athos still living as a noble, and Louis wish to bed his wife he would do so–and Athos/any nobleman would let him–he’s the KING.) 

What–now that she has her pardon–is her desire? To rule France? I think not. (Though, maybe, to advise the King. She seemed interested, and as her gaze never once fell to Rochefort, I don’t think her motivations in speaking well of Treville were only to frustrate Rochefort’s own suggestions.) [And heaven knows that she’s up-to-date enough on politics courtesy the Cardinal]. 

To spend the rest of her life trying to bewitch the King enough that he always keeps her around? Again, no. Does she want him to give her an estate? (She quipped as much. 'A small principality’) A new title? Oh, grief–a royal bastard? (That COULD cement her place with him for some years.)

But this is Milady we’re talking about. She may not have just yet thought beyond acquiring the luxury she has attained in “Emilie”, but it won’t take long for a quick mind like hers to seek out other ways to occupy herself. A King’s mistress doesn’t get to do much but be pretty, well-kept and available to the King at a moment’s notice. And that, for a woman like Milady, will soon bore.

She has to want more than merely protection/money. If she wants status or influence then at some point it has to be towards a particular end.
Might she be enacting something at the Cardinal’s bidding? Or hoping to exploit some secret information she acquired through him? Perhaps a scheme they two dreamed up at some point in the past? That would prove v. intriguing.

Perhaps, what she wants, is 'all this’ and Athos, too.

We know, from the past, Milady does not believe in a reward-giving afterlife. She believes she is living her hell right now. And yet, how important that pardon was to her. How much she strives to not only be seen as 'changed’ but to desire that change (as in, no more assassin jobs) to be real. To stick.

And to whom does she wish to re-confirm that change to?

Athos.

And whom does she tell that he still loves her no matter what she is? (Would you say in S1 she ever seemed confident of that?) Is she confident of this? Or is it a head-game? Is it a chess mover to set the board for the match she is about to play to regain Athos as her lover? (She is rather obviously no longer at all invested in destroying him or the Musketeers.)

We don’t fully know how her official pardon by the monarch would play in Athos’ mind. He knows she’s got no Cardinal to serve, now. He 'forgave’ her everything she did in S1 and took it on as his own fault. As a Musketeer he would have to respect that she is no longer a condemned criminal. At the word of the King he serves.

I think her (possible–I’ll still not say canon b/c I need a lot more questions answered there) betrayal with his brother Thomas and that murder are what’s standing between them. [Not between them being together, but just between them as two characters who are in disharmony. I would not say OTP: Burn it Down has a 'together’ in the future in my understanding.]

And maybe she wants him. Maybe she very much wants him. And maybe she thinks this is the way to get him. Get pardoned, get a powerful protector while she works to re-insert herself into Athos’ life.

I don’t know.

I just know women with the intelligence of Milady de Winter do not settle for the job of (even) the most valuable mistress in the kingdom. They do not agree to confine themselves, and their influence, to bedrooms.

What do you think Milady wants?