the great and the good | Glowfic Constellation

Not for the first time, he thinks about how exactly he got here.

It wasn't as if there was some sort of great moment when he decided to do something great. He always just did what was in front of him. He joined his lordship's army because he was good in a scrap; he learned to win fights, because in battle you learn quick or you're dead; he learned to win battles, because it makes staying alive much easier; then he found himself choosing the battles, and the wars, and then he just chose the right ones.

Now the kingdom is united and peaceful and a damn sight bigger than it was, and he's gone from Her Majesty's highest general to the newly created Duke of the newly created Duchy of Volturgard.

He's a nobleman now, they tell him. Toffiest of the toffs. Just barely not royalty. He always thought you had to be born posh, but when he'd said so to the heraldry-master, the old man had chuckled at him and asked where he thought they came from in the first place, "Beggin' yer pardon, yer grace".

What nobody had told him was what to do here.

He's in the biggest, fanciest house he's ever been allowed inside, through the front entrance, and all these funny-dressed servants who should be hitting him and shouting at him to show some respect are bowing and offering him all these bright rich-scented drinks in funny little glasses.

He sips it. Hates it.

He is announced to the room, and what a room! It's bright, lit by a hundred candles and lanterns, and filled with tittering women in dresses worth what he used to make in a year, and men who seemed to have overslept the morning the chins were handed out, and they're all staring at him. He can't make out their expressions.

His hostess greets him and bows and fusses and he smiles and nods and very soon is left by a table.

He gets a drink. Something sour and sweet and cloudy and not very strong.

Can he ask a servant for whisky or red wine or dwarf beer or something? Is that one of those things that gets the nobs to look at you funny forever?

Gods.

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grant-you-nothing

grant-you-nothing

Tears prick at her eyes. “Really?”

grim-middle-aged-medieval-queen-greying-auburn-hair-cunning-764500764

Queen Jaral

good-to-be-queen

"Why, no, that was all an extremely amusing practical joke at your expense. Yes, foolish girl, you have the potential, goodness knows how."

Eloise Bridgerton

grant-you-nothing

Suddenly, the Queen is being embraced. Tightly.

heavy-is-the-head

?!?!

an-outworn-lie

milk-for-gall

...

good-to-be-queen

good-to-be-queen

...This was not something she expected to happen.

...This is not something that often happens to her.

Hesitantly, she pats the girl on the back.

Somewhere behind them all, armed guards sheath their blades and carry on their silent way.

Eloise Bridgerton

grant-you-nothing

She pulls away before she really pushes it.

“Thank you, Your Majesty. Thank you.” A pause. “What am I to do?”

Queen Jaral

good-to-be-queen

She raises an eyebrow. "Why, learn wizardry, of course. An untrained wizard is an ill thing indeed. You are a clever woman, are you not, Miss Bridgerton? You were at great pains to point out that your brain is the equal of any man's. You will face many such difficulties if you walk a wizard's path. Solve this problem, Miss Bridgerton. Good evening to you. You are dismissed."

Eloise Bridgerton

grant-you-nothing

“Yes. Yes, of course, Your Majesty, thank you.” She curtsies low, and scampers back to Voltur.

“She called me a wizard!” Voltur has never seen Eloise so happy.

Duke Voltur

an-outworn-lie

He cracks a smile. "I think that means she likes you. And she didn't even turn you into a frog."

milk-for-gall

She takes the lemonade from Ambrose and sips it slowly.

This changes many things.

The Duke Voltur is already the Queen's favourite - not that she has a choice, if he were capable of thinking that way he could probably make himself King by force - and if she is showing this much favour to his betrothed as well... the Bridgertons are not especially friends of her family, for now.

Powers are realigning. If she marries Ambrose and presses in the right place she can cut Father off, isolate him, make him vulnerable.

She places a hand on Ambrose's arm, nestling carefully so that she can secretly trace her sharp fingernails over his ribcage. She smiles at him coyly, and sips again.

prodigal-son

Did the Queen just–? Huh. Alright.

…Anyway, that is absolutely not his problem for now. Good on Eloise, though.

Galora’s touch draws his focus back to her in an instant. He gives the woman on his arm a faint smile. “I apologise for placing you in a difficult position earlier.”

milk-for-gall

Hmm.

It's too early by far to bring Ambrose on board fully, if she ever does decide to take him into her confidence. That's an enormous risk, not one she would normally countenance, but if they are to be married the difficulty of secrecy will make it necessary in the end.

She gives him a conspiratorial look. "I may accept your apology, if you tell me what it was that made you so angry." She takes the sting out of her words with a wink.

prodigal-son

He sighs.

Galora gets the sense that he trusts her.

“I do not believe my family have made a good impression on your father. His Grace tells me that Lord Kreel doubts our… integrity, having left the Empire to settle here some time ago. But,” he squeezes the hand she has placed over his arm, his strange ring gleaming, “you need not worry. I shall speak with him myself, tomorrow, if you will still have me call on you. I shall change your father’s mind about us.”

milk-for-gall

For some reason her heart stops for a moment, on hearing that.

Foolish. Father cannot get away with hurting Ambrose.

"I think I insist that you do call on me." Now something riskier... "Can you keep a secret?"

prodigal-son

His brows knit together, and he leans forward. “Of course.”

milk-for-gall

She leans in too close and whispers into his ear. "He's behind the rumours that your family tried to poison the Emperor." Get him used to thinking of Father as the enemy. "It's all right if you did, as long as he deserved it." A joke, but get him thinking about that sort of thing...

prodigal-son

prodigal-son

His grip on Galora’s hand tightens. “I was not aware of such rumours.”

milk-for-gall

Her grip on his tightens.

Let him play the righteous man, then. Excellent. This makes him a lot safer to talk to.

She leans in closer - the Queen declared them engaged, she should be able to get away with this - and very lightly brushed his ear with her lips. "My father is... not a good man. Nor are his friends. I do not think, in fact, I have ever known a good man."

prodigal-son