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scottspack · 4 years

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My Wife Has An 18 Hour Drive Fic Rec Roundup

I wanted to make a fic rec post for the insane amount of Untamed fic ive been reading anyways, and Chi @got2ghost is driving halfway across the country tomorrow, so there’s no time like the present to put all of the really great fics ive read over the past couple of weeks in one location! Let’s get it poppin!

Ones That Chi Already Read:

A Lot of Edges Called Perhaps by hansbekhart (Wangxian, E, 21k)

The funny part is - and it is a little funny, even if Wei Wuxian has no one left to share the joke with - they never have. Not anything. He has never kissed any part of Lan Zhan besides his slim hands; never been even partially undressed with him anywhere besides a miserable, xuanwu-infested cave. It’s always been like this between them, this simmering need, this desperate understanding: a knowledge so deep that it lives somewhere in his bones, that if he wanted to have Lan Zhan he could have him, and if Lan Zhan wanted Wei Wuxian he could have that too. But they never have.

I found this fic on someone’s blog when they said that it was the definitive fic to read directly after finishing the series so i saved it, read it directly after finishing the series, and felt completely and wholly fulfilled by the resolution found in this fic. 10/10 cant recommend enough.

One Rouge Spark In My Direction by hansbekhart (Lan Wangji/Xiao Xingchen/Song Lan E, 5k)

He’d thought, in Yueyang, that they’d seen something in each other, something familiar. That maybe they’d recognized something in him. But it’s been many years, and many things have happened since, and he’s guessed wrongly at other people’s hearts before. Lan Wangji looks back down at the table, at his steaming, bitter tea. He’ll beg if he has to.

In “A Lot Of Edges Called Perhaps” Wangji mentions that he has had sex before and this is the in-universe story of that time and WHEW BABY!!!! AHHHHHH!!!

Gathered Herbs & Sweet Grasses by hansbekhart (Laz Sizhui & Lan Wangji, G, 19k)

Later, when he’s older, it’s this that A-Yuan will remember most: the stretch of silence, the two of them both dirty and shaking with fever, as he looked at Brother Rich, and Brother Rich looked back at him.

This is a fic about Lan Wangji raising Sizhui from when he brings him back from the Burial Mounds until they bring Wuxian back to Cloud Recesses after he’s resurrected. It made me cry about 18 times and I consider it fully canon in relation to the show. I reread this fic at LEAST once a week. *chefs kiss*

Seldom All They Seem by Fahye (Wangxian, E, 25k)

or, one hundred and thirty-three principles of the Gusu Lan, pertaining to the state of marriage

***

He bows to Wei Wuxian, sword in hand, sleeves falling properly. Wei Wuxian bows in return, and the sect leaders begin the opening courtesies, and for all of ten minutes Lan Wangji is under the impression that he is betrothed to a boy who is perfectly normal and acceptable apart from an unfortunate tendency to fidget with his clothes.

That impression does not last.

A canon-divergent fic exploring “what if Wangji and Wuxian were betrothed from when they were young like Yanli and the peacock?” It’s extremely good and very compelling and also made me cry multiple times. (The confrontation in the rain doesn’t get any easier even if they’re betrothed!)

Half Cloak & Half Dagger by Fahye (Lan Xichen/Meng Yao, E, 13k)

Jin Guangyao lifts his head and smiles. "I'm considering a problem."

"Can I be of any assistance with it?"

He drops a kiss on Lan Xichen's chest. With the nail of one finger he lightly traces the characters for irony on Lan Xichen's side. "Not this one, er-ge."

In the “Seldom All They Seem” universe but focused on xiyao. Has hands down the best written characterization of meng yao in any fic ive read so far. I continuously come back to this fic just to read the absolutely genius way this author writes the Head Bitch In Control of the cultivation world.

Hurricane by gdgdbaby (Wangxian, E, 6k)

"Haven't you heard?" Nie Huaisang replied, clicking his tongue, though he was clearly pleased that he could be the one to break the news. He leaned in to announce with a dramatic flourish: "Lan Wangji just took emergency family leave this past weekend."

WANGXIAN AS SPIRK STAR TREK PON FAR AU!!!!!!!!!!!!! WEEWOO WEEWOO WEEWOO!!!!!!!! This was actually recced to ME by CHI and I have not stopped thinking about this fic for a full month. It’s like author gdgdbaby sat down one day and was like “Tumblr user Liv Scottspack deserves everything she wants in this life.” and then wrote this fic. Thank you author gdgdbaby, I love you.

Ones That Chi Has Yet To Read:

My Age Has Never Made Me Wise by idrilka (Wangxian, E, 63k)

“We hear that His Excellency might be married by summer’s end,” the merchant’s wife says and Wei Wuxian freezes, his heart in his throat. “The Gusu Lan sect has been buying enough red silk and brocade that the merchants in Caiyi can’t satisfy the demand.”

He feels himself grow brittle inside, like a flick of a finger to his temple might make him shatter. His ears are ringing.

“Who’s the lucky bride?” he asks despite himself. His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth.

Or: The story of a marriage.

I LOVE THIS FIC. The absolute best kind of slow burn and I think such an extremely accurate representation of the canon material. I’m always surprised by the authors in this fandom’s ability to write shit that is so concretely grounded in the universe. This could and should be a real companion novel. Amazing. I love it.

The Year of Drought by idrilka (Wangxian, E, 24k)

Wei Ying could not be contained by the walls of the Cloud Recesses, alive again and overflowing with it, bursting like a dam in spring with the force of two lives unspent. And so he had to go. Lan Wangji understands that—he understood it when Wei Ying told him of his plans, looking at Lan Wangji above the rim of his cup with an apologetic smile, like craving freedom was something to apologize for.

Wei Ying would go, and Lan Wangji would see him off; this has always been the only way it could be.

Or: In the absence of Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji waits.

The previous fic but from Wangji’s perspective. Absolutely required reading if you read the other one. Wangji baby.......i love you.....

A Civil Combpaign by Ariaste (Jin Ling/Lan Sizhui, T, 20k)

“And,” said one of the pompous ministers, “there’s the matter of a marriage to consider as well!”

Jin Ling, who at the beginning of that sentence had expected to slam into the very last wall of his patience and lose his temper entirely, paused. “A what?”

Thing was… it wasn’t such a bad idea.

Jin Ling gets it in his head that as sect leader he should get married and sets his sights on Lan Sizhui. I cannot stress enough how FUCKING CUTE this fic is!!! Sizhui being the best boy! Jin Ling having more uncles than he knows what to do with! Jiang Cheng being the worst at relationship advice! It’s so fucking good it love it so much.

Anyway, Here’s Wuji by kakikaeru (Lan Jingyi/Lan Sizhui, T, 18k)

The melody gets a little clearer when he breaks out of the trees, and Jingyi changes course with certainty, barreling down the back hill and through the Cloud Recesses, dodging scandalized disciples left and right. He throws open the doors to the Receiving Hall without announcement and bows nearly double, eyes on the floor instead of on the shocked faces of the Mei delegation and the impenetrable gaze of the Chief Cultivator.

"Forgive this disciple," Jingyi shouts, because he's going to get punished for rule breaking regardless. "From the back hill, Hanguang-jun, there is a song in the wind!"

Lan Jingyi comes of age.

A Jingyi-central fic about Jingyi growing up and falling in love and being a hero and being the second best boy of my heart right after Sizhui. Not only is this fic sweet and romantic but it’s another one that explores a lot of interesting things within canon and all of the supporting characters are written very well and are just as interesting as second best boy Jingyi.

Ok, JiuJiu by kakikaeru (Jin Ling/Ouyang Zizhen, T, 16k)

Uncle's jaw works in the way that suggests he's about to say something irredeemable. Jin Ling, in a move of diplomacy he hopes the Chief Cultivator appreciates, distracts him with spicy food and his favourite subject: the incompetence of his own officials.

"I hear the lakes in the south east are having drainage problems?" he asks nonchalantly, sticking three big slices of braised pork belly into his Uncle's bowl.

Jin Ling just wants to get through the Discussion Conference with his Sect, his dignity, and his heart intact.

A follow up fic to “Anyways, Here’s Wuji.” I LOVE the Jin Ling/Ouyang Zizhen dynamic of Jin Ling having been raised by Jiang “I keep all my emotions right here and then one day I’ll die” Cheng being hopelessly charmed and smitten with Ouyang “President of the I Love Love Romance Novel Book Club” Zizhen! I LOVE IT! EXTREMELY CUTE!

This Side of Paradise by greenfionn (Wei Wuxian/Wen Qing, E, 3k)

Wei Wuxian does some very quick math in his head that goes something like this: He is pretty sure he’s in love with Lan Zhan - Lan Zhan is not here and likely never will be here - Wen Qing is here, not to mention very hot and let us not forget, actually interested in sex with him - there’s a solid chance he goes genuinely crazy or dies, or both, in the next few months and really, who wants to die a virgin?

Listen.......the fic premise is “Wei Wuxian and Wen Qing, noted bisexuals, figure life sucks enough at the Burial Mounds, they might as well have any fun they can before they die” and........I Am Looking Directly At It. It features Wen Qing bossing Wei Wuxian around and Wei Wuxian’s canon he-wants-to-be-pregnant kink. It’s........I liked it.

To The Act of Making Noise by words-writ-in-starlight (Lan Sizhui & Lan Wangji, G, 19k)

His father in white plays the song late into the night, and when A-Yuan wakes up confused and afraid, the guqin lulls him back to sleep.

Lan Sizhui hears his father play the same song every night for his whole life, and never, ever get an answer.

Another very moving and heartwarming fic about Lan Wangji raising Sizhui and Sizhui figuring out Wangji’s past and then eventually reconnecting with Wei Wuxian. It’s cute and soft and Sizhui is my best boy!

History (Proud To Call Your Own) by words-writ-in-starlight (Wen Ning, G, 5k)

“A-Yuan? Um—Lan-gongzi,” Wen Ning corrects, trying to set a good example. The children are young, seven and eight, exactly a dozen of them lined up in two crisp lines of tiny blue and white robes. Wen Ning can feel them staring at him, even though most of them have already mastered that Lan trick of neutrality. The smallest, a little girl with liquid dark eyes, is clinging to her nearest shijie’s sleeve and half-hiding. “Can I—what can I do for you?”

Wen Ning gets himself recruited for services, while he and Sizhui are visiting Cloud Recesses. Wei Wuxian gets a fan club.

Set in the same universe as “To The Act of Making Noise,” a very cute fic about Wen Ning finding his place in the post-canon world and being proud of his cousin Sizhui and being the world’s best substitute teacher. As the official Wen Ning Fan Club President, I had to include this.

Lan Sizhui's Guide to Courtship by Kimblydot (Lan Sizhui/Lan Jingyi, T, 23k)

In which Jingyi is a little oblivious, Sizhui is patient (and should have said something in the beginning), and everyone else is resigned to watching them dance around each other for far longer than necessary.

(Or: five things Sizhui tries to do in his courtship, and the one time Jingyi realizes there was one happening in the first place.)

I’ll stop describing fics about the juniors as being “cute” when they stop being SO FUCKING CUUUUUUUUUUTTTTTTTEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!

Grow by cafecliche (Lan Sizhui & Wei Wuxian, T, 14k)

“Okay,” Jingyi says, as Sizhui puzzles this out aloud. “Okay! So the demon has been turning its victims into children.”

“I think so,” Sizhui says.

“To make them easier prey,” Jingyi says.

“Yes,” Sizhui says.

“So—” Jingyi’s voice cracks here, “this kid is Senior Wei.”

Wei Wuxian, still tangled in his own massive robes, blinks politely at them.

(Or: Wei Wuxian is cursed on a night-hunt, and the junior quartet rapidly finds themselves in over their heads.)

What I expected to be a goofy, silly fic turned out to be extremely emotional and made me FULLY CRY! It’s a very moving fic about Sizhui coming to understand himself and Wei Wuxian a lot better AND features all of the juniors arguing over who’s turn it is to hold 6 year old Wei Wuxian. A true win/win of a fic.

Your Name, Safe In Their Mouth by astrolesbian (Lan Sizhui & Wei Wuxian, G, 10k)

“You’ve got a fever,” Wei Wuxian says soothingly. “You just keep still as well as you can. We’ll have you fixed up soon.”

Lan Sizhui recognizes his tone—this is the voice that Wei Wuxian uses on hurt people and young children, a very calm and no-nonsense voice that has none of the mischief and cheer of the way he sounds the rest of the time. Lan Sizhui looks up and meets his eyes, and they are dark, stormy gray, muddled and concerned.

“I’m all right,” he croaks.

“Hush,” Wei Wuxian says, in a low croon, like someone quieting a baby. Then he blinks, and looks away, awkward. “I mean—you shouldn’t speak. You’re tired. Rest if you need to.”

or: lan sizhui gets sick on a night hunt. wei wuxian comforts him. they both have a lot of feelings about it.

The Wei Wuxian and Sizhui bonding fic that I so desperately desperately needed to read. Scratched the very particular itch of “but have they REALLY talked about what it means that they’re reunited after 16 years???”

Stainless by Fahye (Wangxian, E, 6k)

"I'm starting to feel," says Lan Xichen, "that this was a counterproductive suggestion."

Wei Wuxian looks down onto the pristine, tranquil cold springs of the Cloud Recesses. Sitting in the water, their bare shoulders rising like dumplings carefully spaced in a steaming-basket, are a large number of Lan disciples.

"They seem to be doing better," he says, encouragingly. "If they--oh, no, I see what you mean."

At the near bank, someone has pressed someone else against the rocks and is kissing them frantically.

It’s smut! What is getting into a new pairing if not an excuse to read sex pollen in new and exciting ways!

Sweet Night by thejillyfish (Wangxian, E, 10k)

It was like coming back to life again, like being restitched into existence, cell by cell, nerve by nerve. From the surface of his skin to the marrow of his bones, everything new and purposeful. Like being pulled back from oblivion into an embrace of pure light. A feeling of absolute asylum.

That’s what it felt like, to realize Lan Wangji was in love with him.

In-show au of “what if they just admitted they’re in love and fucked during episode 43?” Soft and romantic and hot!

Shadows In The Sun Rise by Yuu_chi (Wangxian, E, 25k)

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji says, voice slow and a pitch too quiet. A second later Wei Wuxian understands why. “I cannot hear.”

Or; Lan Wangji is cursed into internal isolation. Their ability to understand one another remains as unwavering as ever.

OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD. I have been thinking about this fic nonstop since I read it. It is.....fucking incredible. One of the best qualities of wangxian is that they’re so in tune with each other and able to work so cohesively with little communication and this fic is like “what if we take that and DIAL IT UP TO ELEVEN” and i was like AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

WHEW OKAY that’s enough for right now!

I’m constantly reading new fics all the time so maybe eventually I’ll make a second one if Chi actually reads/likes any of these (they’re picky!), or if anyone else likes this list and wants updates.

TO CHI: Thank you for getting me into The Untamed! I love you! I had the best time texting you every thought that passed through my head while I watched it. I’ve loved all of the content you’ve sent me from the book and the comic. I’ve loved making fun of Yibo with you. I’ve loved being your fic taste tester. Life sucks right now but at least we have wangxian!

TO EVERYONE ELSE: If you read any of these fics please come to my DMs and talk to me about them! I have a lot of feelings and love to cry over fics! Thank you!

#the untamed #fic #WHEW BABY THIS IS A LOT #i did in fact just spend two full hours making this #i dont regret it at all bc im bad about bookmarking things so im glad this forced me to go back through my ao3 history #and actually make a record of the fics ive read and loved #theres SO MUCH talent in this fandom #just a crazy amount #from the fan artists to the fic writers to the gif makers #i forgot how fun being in a fandom is when the canon is good and the fans are creative!#i said it on my sideblog but this has been the first time ive EVER read fic for a fandom #where i wasnt exclusively reading fics about a certain pairing getting together #i literally just want to read any and everything about this universe #regardless of pairing or rating or whatever else #which is not at all my usual style #shout out to the untamed for being a good fucking show and for having like four other canon adaptions #theres just so much to work with and the fic writers absolutely kill it #ANYWAYS I LOVE YOU CHI #HAVE A SAFE TRIP TOMORROW

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richmond-rex · 4 years

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🌹🌹 - If I’m not too late!

Oh, you’re definitely not late! I was here thinking to myself which excerpt I could post without giving too many spoilers away, and I remember I wrote the first chapter of a character study about Cardinal Beaufort on the days before my thesis’ viva—I needed to decompress and I couldn’t possibly try to write my usual fics and characters because nothing would come out right. But I had no emotional attachment to Henry Winchester whatsoever besides a mere curiosity and for once I wanted the challenge of writing a devious, cunning character. The fic is entitled Four Kings, Five Scenes and each chapter was supposed to portray the cardinal during four different reigns: King Richard II (ch 1), King Henry IV (ch 2), King Henry V (ch 3), King Henry VI (ch 4) and King Henry VI again (ch 5). Obviously, I realised that no one would want to read this story lol. It really was the stress of the moment that made me write the first chapter. Well, since I’m not going to publish it anywhere and the chapter is fairly small compared to my usual chapter length (5k or more), you can read it here below the cut! Tagging @nuingiliath because she might be interested as well.

OLD TEMPLE, HOLBORN

Late September 1398

“Tell me what I ought to do, brother.”

Henry Beaufort, newly-appointed Bishop of Lincoln, rolled the episcopal ring on his finger—amethyst flaring under the sunlight—and let out an exasperated, long-held sigh. He could see its tracking ascendence in the air, the way the dust specks caught in the sunbeam would spiral and dance. Though old as its very name suggested, Old Temple was still one of the finest episcopal houses in London, bought for the exclusive use of the bishops of Lincoln after the Knights Templar decided to move within the borders of the City. A dusty residence it might be, but it was still one of the various privileges acquired after Henry’s consecration, or perhaps more importantly, his legitimisation. Everything was coming together, and yet, all hung at the brink of destruction.

“You are the eldest of us, John,” Lincoln replied, voice softening. “It is for you to lead us once Father is gone.”

His brother turned from the arched window, face twisting into a frown. He looked lost, utterly and completely lost, the tip of his red chaperon thrown over one shoulder as if the very fabric was trapping him in place or threatening to coil around his neck and squeeze out his breath.

“You’re the family’s clergyman.” He entreated, stepping closer. “Tell me, brother. What would God have me do?”

It was Lincoln’s turn to frown. By then the morning had given way to noon and the bishop had just finished donning his purple robes, a gold-threaded stole hanging from either side of his neck. It was almost time for Lincoln to resume his administrative duties concerning his diocese—let not anyone claim Henry Beaufort had earned his mitre by bribery and favouritism. He ran a hand along his tonsured head—he still had to send for his zucchetto hat to be brought to him—and paused in that pensive state, partially choosing what to say and partially assessing when he should schedule another shaving.

“God would have you love your brother—” He clasped his hands before his stomach, magnanimously. “—and obey your king.”

It was the first opportunity the two Beauforts had to discuss Bolingbroke’s banishment from the kingdom. It was an urgent matter: Henry Bolingbroke was Duke of Hereford and Earl of Derby, and—that was the most important piece of information—their father’s rightful heir. He was to inherit the large possessions and prodigious fortune that belonged to the Duke of Lancaster, the richest man in the realm—or so it had seemed, at least until the moment King Richard sent him into exile. The king had not mentioned his Lancastrian inheritance but as all invisible things, it still had its own weight, it still cast its own shadow. Lancaster himself was no less worried for the omission of the matter. It hung heavily, unresolved, in the air.

His brother John, lately elevated from his earldom of Somerset to the marquessate of Dorset, resumed his speech after a brief moment of consideration.

“I say Bolingbroke is a good Christian, brother. He has vowed to defend the faithful and I know he means well and true.”

John would know, the two of them had gone crusading together. While John, Bolingbroke and Swynford were bonding over tournaments and military expeditions, young Henry had his head buried deep in manuscripts and missals. For a time it had been a fancy of Henry’s to imagine himself a Knight Templar fighting for the kingdom of Christ in the Holy Land: the armour, the tabard and the red cross, entire armies under his command as a Grand Master. A child’s fancy, yes, for the Templars were no more—yet there Lincoln stood, at the very place those brothers had once called home. There was a rightness to it, a taste he could feel at the very tip of his tongue. Lancaster might have arranged for the trio of brothers to be admitted into the Confraternity at Lincoln’s Cathedral but it was he—Henry Beaufort—the one chosen to command the entire diocese now.

His brother John didn’t even seem to notice his state of reminiscence. He kept talking, his words coming to Lincoln’s ears in all of their ardour again.

“—I didn’t speak for Uncle Gloucester at the time and now it weighs on my conscience! Worse, brother, I condemned him! I called for his very arrest!”

“Woodstock was a traitor of the realm.” The bishop deadpanned. “It was your duty as a peer to call for his arrest. You know that as well as I d—”

A boy holding his purple zucchetto was just about to enter the room. The bishop dismissed him with a sharp turn of his head, shooed him away with a glare and a quick motion of his hand. The boy scurried away, his hurried steps echoing on the flagstones. Lincoln frowned, pressed his lips into a thin line: his own brusqueness had displeased him. He should be nobler in his actions, loftier, gentler even, a true shepherd of Christ. As he turned, he saw John had already stepped back to the window. Once again, he didn’t seem to have noticed any commotion around him.

“Be as it may, this time is different.” John restarted. “Our brother has done no wrong against the king. There is only one explanation for this—” John stopped short before he went further, checking himself at the very last minute. He didn’t utter the word, but it hovered just above them, somewhere over their heads. Retribution. Vengeance for the time Bolingbroke joined the Lords Appellant and rebelled against cousin Richard. One by one those rebels had been crushed.

The glass panels tinted his brother’s face with green, spots of red covered his face as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. Shocking blue, poisonous red, a liquid green so fresh one could almost drink.

“It was cruel to make him fight Mowbray to the death, but there was still honour in it. There’s no honour to be found in exile.” He closed his eyes. “He has six children, Henry.”

This time the bishop’s reply was swift. “Father will take care of them. As will we if it comes to such an end. We shall support the family as we always have.”

John, still looking very much disheartened, acceded with a small nod. “You know,” he smiled weakly, eyes growing distant like a far-away ship. “I used to look up to him when I was little. All I ever wanted was to be like Bolingbroke, a true son of Lancaster.”

The sensation was familiar to the bishop himself, only his brother still seem to hold to that boyish memory as his heart’s truest wish, even now that his aspirations were supported by law: standing there at the bishop’s residence, John was dressed in Lancaster blue and white, their father’s SS livery collar hung over his shoulders, the S-shaped links crafted in pure gold and held closely together.

A sting of bittersweetness washed over the bishop. What if… what if the king had Bolingbroke attainted? Surely, King Richard was unpredictable those days—no one had been quite able to placate his moods ever since Queen Anne had died—but if the king did attaint their brother, neither he nor his children would be authorised to inherit Lancaster’s lands and title. Perhaps… perhaps King Richard would choose to pass them over to Lancaster’s next legitimate male heir, in that case, his brother John himself.

“Dear brother, why do you choose to dwell in such sorrowful thoughts? Father loves you best.”

John turned to him sharply. “You cannot know such a thing!”

Oh, the plain irony of watching his brother’s face turned into a scowl that mirrored exactly the one their father was famous to possess! John had Lancaster’s same strong nose, as did the bishop himself, yet now at his anger, his brother had turned into the very picture of John of Gaunt. It was oftentimes that natural children would have their sire’s face if not his name, as if it was an underhanded way of nature to compensate for their social ostracism.

“He does.” The bishop repeated in a firm voice. He clasped his hands, a position that gave him reassurance in difficult situations. “Recall that Father has done everything in his power to make us his true children. He appealed to Parliament and His Holiness the Pope Himself, he moved mountains to secure our charts of legitimisation. All this time, he has extensively defended our cause to the king. Now, that same king has banished his heir from the land and the Duke of Lancaster poses no resistance. Why do you think that is?”

It was not exactly true, but it was what his brother needed to hear. Lancaster had, in fact, negotiated with the king to the best of his abilities, a piece of information that the bishop suspected his brother John knew already. The Marquess of Dorset was, after all, well-placed within cousin Richard’s circle. A more credible point against the bishop’s claim would be, however, that the Duke of Lancaster rarely ever showed his true emotions, fatherly or otherwise. It would be impossible to say whom he loved best.

“If Father will not risk his head over this matter, John—John, my beloved John! Heed my words now. You should not risk your own!”

John looked at him with such heaviness it bore into the bishop’s own soul. Henry walked over to his brother and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You have a good heart, John. It is loyal and true and it bears testament to your character, but it will get you killed. Remember who gave you your earldom of Somerset, who made you marquess of Dorset, knight of the Garter, who married you to that illustrious lady, the king’s own niece. He who appointed you as Constable of Dover—”

“—Warden of the Cinq Ports, Admiral of the Fleet in the North and West, Lieutenant in Aquitaine, I know, I know!” John took a long breath. “I know. The king, our cousin.”

King Richard himself had fastened the earl’s belt during John’s girding; the king himself had draped the velvet cloak across John’s shoulders. The ceremony had been clear enough: the earl’s power derived from his authority and his authority alone.

The bishop retrieved his hand from his brother’s shoulder slowly, pulled it back inch by inch until it was safely resting against its twin counterpart, flat against his stomach.

“Father has been unwell. When the Lord deems time to call him to His side again, who will look after us? Remember our brother Tom, so young and not yet a peer. Remember Joan and her children. Remember Mother.”

“No. No, brother, you speak true.” John conceded with a nod. “I can’t endanger your safety nor leave any of you unprotected. I cannot defy the king.”

There was resolution on his face, yet there was sadness as well. The bishop still sought a way of soothing his brother’s heart. “Let me be the one to speak for our brother. Cousin Richard already knows I’ve had my whole diocese pray for him. I stand safer as a prelate than you do as a courtier.”

In a second, his brother gripped his shoulder, displaced the stole hung around the bishop’s neck with a heartiness that surprised him. As though they were mere, simple children again, John smiled in truth at last.

“You have always been the wisest of us, brother. Yet,” He looked down,chuckled. “Yet sometimes I still remember that boy who vowed to God he would become pope.”

Bishop Beaufort felt his lips quirk up—a genuine, delicious thrill elicited by the memory—and so, accordingly, he lowered his eyelids in modesty. “All wisdom comes from our Holy Mother, the Church. All grace from God the Lord Almighty and His Son, Christ the Holy Lamb.” His prelate answer given, he glanced up again. “Sometimes I caught myself thinking of that boy as well, dear John, yet times have changed.”

John raised an eyebrow, apparently befuddled. “Have they?”

“Yes,” The bishop replied, no longer speaking of the ambitions held for a long time inside his heart. “If for the better or for the worse, only the future will tell.”

_______________________ *notes: it’s said that John Beaufort, while still suporting Richard II at the time of Bolingbroke’s invasion, might have played a double game. When he was captured by his brother’s forces and the Percys called for his execution, Henry IV is supposed to have said: “I beseech you do him no harm, for he is my brother, and has always been my friend; see the letter he sent to me in France.” Henry IV later made John Beaufort his Lord Chamberlain.

Henry Beaufort remained close to his brother John up until his last breath. The bishop stayed by his side at St Katherine’s hospital while he was dying. Henry was made executor of John’s will, a mark of deep trust, if not also affection the brothers had for each other. It may explain why Cardinal Beaufort vouched for his nephews, his brother’s children, so fiercely in the coming decades.

#lady-plantagenet #fic: four kings five scenes #hoping to god tumblr will not mess this post!#cardinal beaufort

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