queens barge

broken-hearted-dreamer  asked:

David takes Emma's arm and smiles at her. They begin walking down the aisle, where Hook awaits at the altar. Emma's smile turns more into a frown the closer they get to her fiancée. Regina, from the front row, notices Emma's uneasiness and decides to act on her own. She looks over at Henry, and he nods knowingly. Regina clenches her fists and boldly steps out onto the aisle in front of Emma blocking her way. "No," she says simply. (Feel free to rephrase anything you want)

Thanks for the prompt :) 

Emma’s heart thuds as she approaches the hall. Cold feet. That’s what people keep telling her, that it’s just cold feet, but she can’t help but wonder if this was her happy ending, wouldn’t those nerves and niggling doubts have faded by now? 

“Ready?” David asks with a smile as he offers her his arm. 

Emma slips her arm into his with a hesitant nod before plastering on a smile. This is her fairytale wedding. She should be happy. This should feel perfect…and yet…something doesn’t feel right. 

As they begin walking closer she spots Regina and Henry, and for a moment her smile becomes genuine. She looks at her family and feels a spark of hope, her heart fluttering in her chest. It’s then as she turns to face her fiancee that she realises what’s wrong. 

Her smile drops into a frown as her stomach churns. This is her wedding day. A day for happiness and hope…and now there’s no turning back. Her heart hammers with fear as they get closer to the altar and she wonders if it’s too late to run. 

Regina frowns as she watches Emma walk up the aisle. She doesn’t even really want to be here. Every second makes her heart ache but Emma asked her to be here and so did Henry, so for them she put on a dress and threw on a smile and did her best to make peace. 

She did it by telling herself that Emma would be happy but standing here watching Emma’s smile morph into fearful uneasiness, she wonders if she should have stepped up sooner, if it might have made a difference. 

By instinct she turns to Henry who simply stares knowingly at her before whispering, “It’s not too late Mom.” 

She sucks in a deep breath before clenching her fists and stepping out into the aisle. 

“What the bloody hell…” Hook begins to ask before trailing off as he watches Emma turn her full attention to Regina. 

“No,” Regina says simply to Emma. 

“Regina,” Charming whispers back, “We’re trying to walk up the aisle here.” 

Regina shakes her head, “No…Emma…it’s not too late.” 

At this Hook marches down, “I don’t know what you think you’re doing love, but this is our wedding day and we don’t need the Evil Queen barging in.” 

“She’s not barging in,” Emma says finally speaking up, “She’s saving me…Hook…I…I’m so sorry…” she turns to Regina unsure what else to say, “Are you sure it’s not too late?” 

Regina offers her her hand which Emma takes with ease, before replying, “It’s never too late.” She smiles at Emma squeezing her hand softly before turning. Hand in hand, they run - as best they can in their wedding high heels - back down the aisle and out the door. 

They run until they reach the pier, collapsing onto a park bench. Emma laughs…she’s not sure from exhilaration or pure panic before frowning down at her dress. She waves her hand poofing into a sweater and jeans before turning to Regina, “Thank you.” 

“For what? Ruining your fairytale wedding? Your parents are probably preparing to put my head on a stick,” Regina quips. 

Emma chuckles as she reaches for Regina pulling her in for a hug, “Thank you for reminding me that it wasn’t too late for me to find my happy ending.” 

Sunburn In My Eyes

Lady Whent, last of her line, who dwelt with her ghosts in the cavernous vaults of Harrenhal.

— Catelyn V, A Game of Thrones


“In the beginning,” said Shella, “there is a ruin.”

“Once upon a time,” the girl, Pia, piped up, “there is doom.” She giggled. “M’lady Whent promised a good story.”

Shella kept on arranging her fruit bowl. In a little while she would be finished, with each lemon curve cradled just right against each apple plumpness, and every pomegranate skin gleaming against the bowl’s porcelain rim. And after all that, Shella would hasten to depart Harrenhal. She had lions nearing her gates.

In a little while.

For now, she would arrange her fruit bowl, like she always did after breakfast. She would talk to herself like she always did, and tolerate the girl, the fool, chattering away in the shadows.

“Once upon a time, I pricked myself with needles,” Pia went on. “Lots of times. Twas cause sometimes I get startled. I think I see some ghosts.”

The sole lighted lamp, glowing damply against the weight of the cavernous chamber and the pre-dawn stillness, cast enough light so that Shella could see what the girl was doing. She was washing each fruit in a copper basin. Shella spared a thought to be glad that the girl was rather careful with drying the fruits before handing them to her. Pia did sew like each stitch was an afterthought.

“In the beginning,” Shella told the pomegranate she was arranging, “Harrenhal was ruined. It all started there. It was ruined for the realm to be born.”


"No,” Minisa laughed, playfully sprinkling Shella’s face with the water for Minisa’s flowers. “No. Everything started with a beam of sunlight.”

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Braavosi Courtesans

Braavosi courtesans are renowned worldwide and they enjoy high status. Every courtesan has her own barge and servants to work them. The beauty of famed courtesans has inspired many a song. They are showered with gifts from goldsmiths and craftsmen beg for their custom. Nobility and rich merchants pay the courtesans large amounts of money to appear alongside them at events, and bravos are known to kill each other in their names. Braavosi courtesans are famous, respected and wealthy and enjoy a kind of celebrity status as well as a certain kind of mystique. They are cultured and beautiful. Some families have produced many generations of courtesans, such as Bellegere Otherys’s, it is likely that there are other Braavosi courtesan families.


The Black Pearl- Bellegere Otherys, also known as the Black Pearl of Braavos, was a smuggler, trader, sometime pirate, captain of the Widow Wind, born of a union between a Braavosi merchant’s daughter and an envoy from the Summer Isles. She meet Aegon IV Targaryen and became his fourth mistress, their affair continued for ten years though it was said that Bellegere had a husband in every port and that Aegon was but one of many. Her daughter Bellenora Otherys became a courtesan called the Black Pearl after her mother and since there has always been a Black Pearl courtesan in Braavos descended from the first.


The Black Pearl- The current Black Pearl is also called Bellegere Otherys and she is descended from the first Black Pearl and Aegon IV. Her mother, Bellonara Otherys was the previous Black Pearl before her. She is young and lovely, with black hair, light brown skin and full breasts. A some say the name the Brown Pearl would be more fitting, due to Bellegere’s light brown skin tone

The Merling Queen- Is a beautiful Braavosi courtesan, she is never seen without her Mermaids to hold her hair and veil, the Mermaids are always young maidens in the blush of their first flowering, and a replaced as necessary. The Merling Queen has her own barge, and servants to pole her to trysts.

The Veiled Lady- Wears veils to cover her face in public it is said she is incredibly beautiful though none but her lovers ever see her face. Like all courtesans she has her own barge and servants to pole her to trysts.

Moonshaow- Is beautiful and only dresses in silver and white, when she heard Dareon of the Night’s Watch singing and playing by the Moon Pool in Braavos she gave him a kiss for his talent.

Daughter of the Dusk- Not much is known about her other than her beauty and that she like most courtesans has her own barge with servants to cruise the canals of Braavos.

The Nightingale- Is renowned for her beauty, Braavos will challenge duels with any man who does not say that the Nightingale is the most beautiful woman in the world, Cat of the Canals claims that her father was killed because he said her mother was more beautiful than the Nightingale.

The Poetess- She is always carrying a book with her, and is quite mysterious, she is beautiful and has her own barge and servants.

anonymous asked:

Headcannon about the gang sneaking away to rock concerts on the weekends & the first time lily went with them? (:

  • let’s get one thing straight, it’s all Sirius’ fault
  • you may think if Sirius is involved nothing is straight, but for the sake of this please just try and imagine
  • he plans the whole thing, even gets them fake IDs because most Muggle concerts require to be 18 years or older
    • S: Why 18 though?
    • P: Pads, I have no fucking idea please drop it
    • S: No, it’s weird, I won’t drop it
    • P: Go to hell then
    • S: I intend to
  • they start sneaking out after 5th year because before that they all look 10 except for maybe Remus
  • Sirius convinces himself that they can use Polyjuice Potion but James says no
    • Prongs, what if we tried Polyjuice P-
    • Pads. I am NOT brewing a very complicated potion just to go to a concert mate, I refuse.
    • FINE.
  • It is a very hard thing to do getting out of Hogwarts, they usually use the Forbidden Forest
    • I don’t think it’s worth dying for Bowie*, Pads.
    • Oh, it IS worth it you just don’t know it yet Remus.
  • It was worth it and they never questioned Sirius’ taste in music ever again.
  • Then at the end of 6th year when they are getting ready to go to a Queen** concert, Lily barges into their dorm room demanding where are they going and James can’t help it (it’s Lily mate!)
    • L: It is not full moon, where are you preparing to go?
    • S: It’s not your business Lily-kins.
    • J: We are going to a concert in London.
    • S: PronGS?!
    • L: You are WHAT? Which one?
    • R: Queen
    • L:Oh I am coming, Marlene is coming, too. Tsk, tsk. You little prats, going to a Queen concert without telling us.
  • Then it becomes a tradition for them to go to concerts in London area. 
  • It requires a lot of hard work and they are usually sleeping on the desks the next day but it is SO worth it
  • Then when attacks get bad, they just stop going
  • on the nights of the concerts they miss, they sit in the common room a bottle of Firewhiskey passing from one to another they reminisce
  • because that’s the best they can do
  • and it feels good that they have these incredible memories with each other
  • because they are one big family

*In May 1976, David Bowie had the London leg of his tour Isolar - 1976 Tour. I checked it, because I’m that kind of a crazy.

** Queen had several concerts in London in 1977, I checked that, too because of the reason given above. 

arrow au - in which thea queen throws felicity smoak a bachelorette party and things get, well, you know - wild and then oliver queen comes barging in and spoils the party and felicity uses her loud voice and gets mad at her fiancé and then they make out forever.

Anne Boleyn - May 2nd 1536
On the morning of May 2nd 1536, Anne Boleyn awoke as usual in her luxurious four-poster bed, with its silken sheets and golden tassels imported from Florence. Despite her husband’s abrupt departure from the Mayday jousts the day before, there was no sign that this day was going to be different from any other. The Queen’s ladies of the bedchamber were already waiting to dress her in the morning’s preliminary outfit – a long robe, a bit like a dressing gown, was placed over a relatively simple linen dress and the Queen ate breakfast in the privacy of her rooms before a screen was erected in front of her for Mass. Since she was in her dishabille, it was customary for the Queen to hear the morning service from behind a screen on days which were not holy days or great festivals. So, with a mantilla draped over her head and her prayer book in her hands, Anne heard one of her chaplains celebrate the Mass, before she retired back to her bedchamber to be dressed properly. After being dressed, the usual routine in the Queen’s Household was for Her Majesty to read any important letters or petitions which had arrived for her, which over the last few weeks had included another from Lady Lisle, the wife of the Governor of Calais, who had recently sent some gifts across the Channel for Her Majesty, in the hope of securing places for both of her daughters in Anne’s household. With business out of the way and no audiences to grant, the Queen went downstairs with some of her ladies to watch a tennis match. One of her friends was competing and correctly predicting that he would win, the Queen remarked to her Mistress of the Wardrobe that she should have placed a bet at the beginning of the match. Just as the game finished, a messenger arrived with an “order of the King,” ordering Anne to present herself before the Privy Council at once. Anne Boleyn was not accustomed to being summoned anywhere, but despite her later reputation for being difficult, she was in fact always unfailingly polite to servants. She certainly wasn’t one to “shoot the messenger” and so she obediently left the tennis court to go to the palace’s Council Chamber. Entering the Chamber, she perhaps expected to see either her husband or the entire Council there. Instead, only three of the King’s advisers were present – Anne’s 63 year-old uncle, the Duke of Norfolk, the King’s imaginatively-named Master Treasurer, Sir William Fitzwilliam, and Sir William Paulet, a politician who would later serve in the government of Anne’s daughter, Elizabeth. Anne later remembered that Paulet was the only “gentleman” amongst them - her resentment at how the duke and Fitzwilliam treated her was palpable to anyone who spoke to her over the next two weeks. It was one of the first things she complained about to her gaoler, once her nerves had calmed. As the Queen entered their Chamber, all three men stood – but only Paulet bowed. The duke informed her that the King had granted the Council powers to investigate her “evil behaviour.” As a result of these investigations, the Queen now stood accused of adultery with the courtier Sir Henry Norris, the musician Mark Smeaton and a mysterious third lover, whose identity they refused to reveal at this stage. The Queen, understandably, was both livid and terrified at her uncle’s accusations and she furiously denied them, stating that the King was the only man who had ever touched her. Throughout her tirade, the Duke of Norfolk sanctimoniously tutted in disbelief, whilst Fitzwilliam stared at her with silent loathing - a long-time supporter of Anne’s predecessor, Katherine of Aragon, and her daughter Mary, Fitzwilliam had been waiting for Anne’s destruction for years and he was extracting every ounce of grim pleasure now that it was finally unfolding. Due to the dramatic nature of their conversation, it is often assumed that Anne was arrested in the Council Chamber, immediately after she was accused but, incredibly, the Queen was actually allowed to return to her apartments for lunch, whilst Norfolk, Fitzwilliam and Paulet awaited further instructions from Westminster and Whitehall. Lunch, as it transpired, can only be described as macabre - an event whose atmosphere sounds like a work of gothic melodrama. The first thing Anne did upon returning to her rooms was not to notify her household of what had just happened, but to get changed into a new dress. She chose a deliberately majestic outfit of crimson velvet, with a cloth of gold kirtle. However, trying to keep any form of secret at the Tudor Court was always a next-to impossible task and by the time Anne entered her chamber for lunch and took her usual place beneath a canopy of estate, the news that she had been accused of adultery had spread round the entire palace – a hundred soldiers had already been seen sailing up the Thames to apprehend her. Throughout the meal, the ladies-in-waiting sat picking at their food, ashen-faced and trembling, whilst the servants were actually sobbing as they continued to go through the ritual of serving the Queen’s luncheon. Sitting amidst this despair and muted hysteria, sat a sumptuously-dressed Anne, with jewels defiantly glistening from her ears, throat and fingers, trying to carry on as if nothing was wrong. At two o’clock, as the last plate was cleared from the table, the Council entered the Queen’s Apartments. The Queen’s three original accusers now came accompanied by some of their colleagues on the Council – including the Lord Chancellor, the Earl of Oxford, Lord Sandys and Thomas Cromwell. Seeing them, Anne rose from her chair, demanding to know why they had come into her presence, although given their earlier argument, she must surely have known the answer. Norfolk produced a warrant for her arrest, signed by the King, and commanded her to come with them at once; she was to be lodged in the Tower of London. There was no time for her to pack any of her clothes or jewels and she was forbidden to bring any of her own ladies with her, or to contact any of her friends or relatives. Faced with a warrant and soldiers, Anne had no choice but to surrender with the best grace possible under the circumstances: “If it be His Majesty’s pleasure, I am ready to obey.” Stepping out into the May sunshine, the councillors escorted their queen to a waiting barge, which pushed off from the red-brick palace where Anne had enjoyed so many of her successes and given birth to her daughter three years earlier. Still wearing the gown she had worn to lunch, Anne sat upright, staring ahead with a face frozen into an expression of superbly haughty calm, as her jewels and silks shimmered in the afternoon sun. She did not give any sign of hearing the jeers of various Londoners out on the river, nor did she deign to react to the Duke of Norfolk’s insufferable tutting, which resumed every time he looked at her. The tide was against them and so the journey from Greenwich to the Tower was an agonisingly long one, meaning that Anne had to put up with this kind of behaviour for over two hours. Reaching its destination in the early evening, the barge sailed through the Court Gate near Byward Tower, the Royal Family’s private entrance to the fortress. As she sailed into captivity, the cannons of the Tower fired out a salvo to announce the incarceration of a great personage within its walls and it was this sound, coupled with seeing the imposing walls of the Tower rise up around her, which finally shattered Anne’s preternatural calm. Henry VI and Edward V had both vanished into the Tower, never to emerge - as had several of Anne’s opponents in days gone-by. Alighting onto the wharf, the full, hideous reality of her situation finally seemed to hit her and her legs gave way beneath her. Falling onto the steps, the Queen began to pray. The councillors, having deposited her into her prison, returned to the barge without speaking a word to her. As a collective, they then journeyed to the Palace of Westminster, where the King had moved earlier in the morning, to inform him that his wife was now safely under lock and key. After she had finished her prayers, Anne was helped to her feet by the Constable of the Tower - Sir William Kingston - a middle-aged knight. Sober and imposing, Kingston was a true Tudor loyalist who always publicly adhered to the official government position that Queen Anne was guilty as charged, but throughout her imprisonment, he treated her with chivalrous courtesy and he later went to great lengths to praise her courage. He took no pleasure in her misery and he would always maintain that of the many prisoners he had guarded over the years, Anne Boleyn was one of the bravest. That famous bravery, however, was not on display in the first hour after she entered her prison. As they processed through the Tower, Anne’s mind began to race back to the last time she was here – during her Coronation week in 1533. Then, she had arrived to great pomp and ceremony, with Kingston bowing low before her and cannons firing to announce her triumph, not her imprisonment. Dressed in a gown shimmering with a King’s ransom in jewels, she had been greeted with a kiss by her enraptured husband who led her by the hand to her new apartments, decorated especially for the Coronation festivities. Now, Anne was a prisoner of the monarchy she had once helped lead and, even in her wildest, most paranoid moments - of which there had been many over the past five months - she had never dreamed that she would face imprisonment on a charge of adultery.  Suddenly, Kingston took a turn that Anne had not expected and she turned to him in a panic, saying, “Master Kingston, do I go into a dungeon?” “No, Madam,” he replied soothingly, “you shall go into your lodging that you lay in at your coronation.” Hearing that she was to be kept in the very rooms which had been decorated for her three years earlier, Anne collapsed once again. Kneeling there on the cobbles of the Tower of London, in a dress of gold and crimson – the colours of wealth and blood – Anne Boleyn, Queen of England began “weeping a great pace, and in the same sorrow fell into a great laughing, and she hath done many times since”.