The Tudors 4.07

“The Sixth and the Final Wife”

to my beloved @noesapphic ❤︎❤︎❤︎

“So long, London”

As a generous philanthropist, it was no surprise that he might invited to events such as this — though he was an Oxford man — though they wouldn't hold that against him, or so was the running joke of the evening. He doesn't think he will anyone interesting, or that is to say, anyone that will ping his radar. Yet... it does, in the strangest way, concerning the strangest man. Well, that was to say, the man seemed relatively tame compared to his colleagues, whose eccentricities they could not hold back. The statement thrown out was simple and innocuous enough; he could simply have been commenting on the other guests. It was the reaction that he was most interested in, and indeed, it seemed his wandering eye had not failed to find him, at the very least, fascinating company. A low but friendly chuckle slipped from his lips, "And here I had been told you were the professor of mathematics. Have they misled me and that philosophy is actually your domain?"

BECOMING ELIZABETH (2022)

Alina was relieved that her message of advice seemed to have sunk into the Heartrender. There weren't many at court she enjoyed interacting with, truth be told, but she enjoyed her conversations with Mr. Cromwell. She supposed she thought of him as a bit of a kindred spirit. Cromwell walked in the two worlds of courtier and Grisha as she tried to with the otkazat'sya and Grisha.

"Well, I hope this particular piece of court gossip turns out to be correct," she said with an accompanying chuckle. "Wouldn't that be something?"

They were relatively close to securing peace, although Alina didn't know if such a peace could last for long with the Fjerdans. Along with their overall hatred of Grisha, she knew their must be lingering resentment over the death of the former tsaritsa.

"I truly hope it will work out," Alina admitted, tone sobering after she took a sip of her tea.

"If there is a single positive occurrence that could come out of this...regime change, then I wish it to be the end of the wars."

Thomas had worked hard for peace all of his life; though not officially a diplomat, no more than Wolsey had been, he had always sought to entertain the ambassadors and visiting dignitaries. They had both wanted peace more than anything. But what would his late mentor think, to see it realized now? He sipped on the tea, but the taste of it hollow, bitter from the flavour of memories, and of regret. And of the cost of peace. "An end of wars..." he mused, wondering if she realized exactly the weight of what she said, "for there will be no one who can fight back against our great and mighty country." Namely... its tsar and tsarina. Who would dare fight them, when there was the certainty to lose? "And if the continent might all perhaps be... united together?" The words were innocently said, but he wondered what expansionist dreams its tsar had. Conquering. "How can there be war if all is Ravka?"

tryna do something other than lurk so like for me to send you a meme

⏎ This user is a MULTI-VERSE player that *welcomes* duplicates of the same canon muses, while NOT abandoning other partners; because chemistry & muns add different spices to the same duplicate!!

Frederick's peacocking and desperation to fit into the elite psychiatric circles had put him on a lot of people's list of pests. Though, he'd never admit that to anyone, but deep down, he knew.

Hearing the assurance brought a noticeable breath to be released. He'd been more than nervous. Frederick didn't believe that he did anything wrong, at least he wasn't fully aware that he was being slightly unethical if he were. A faint smile was thrown at his lawyer. He truly was grateful.

"I have them here," he admitted, turning carefully and slowly bending down to reach into his briefcase. A faint tug in his abdomen, phantom pains, brought about a scrunched face of discomfort.

"They should all be on the up and up."

No man with ambition doesn't make enemies. Or if he thought so, it meant he wasn't paying close enough attention. So was Frederick lying or was he blind? But that was only of slight concern; a prejudicial prosecution was difficult to prove. Thomas watched, not assisting the man not because of a lack of sympathy, but to see how he might fare in front of a courtroom. A wince of pain here and there could do wonders on the jury. He considered the issue of the reports, and the time that might be spent on them, pouring over them one by one. "I can review them on my own..." Which went unsaid that he would do so. "But I imagine calling you every ten minutes to go over something might prove annoying. Might be possible to perhaps spend an evening going over it? I find it will be much easier for the both of us, in that case." He doubted Frederick wanted his evenings interrupted with constant questions. "I'll even buy dinner," he added, with a polite smile, to sweeten the deal.

𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐒 & 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐄 @threecardtrick

While Clarice wasn't sure Mr. Cromwell would actually do some research of his own, all she could do at this point was hope she had somehow managed to get to him. "Of course," she replied politely, though her tone was much drier than before. Taking the business card he was handing her, she thanked him. At least she had his personal phone number. "Let me give you my phone number too," she offered, "call me if you find anything." She took a notebook from her pocket and scribbled her phone number on a page before ripping it and giving it to him.

"So far I have given you all the information I had on Benjamin Raspail." She was well aware that this little game of theirs couldn't go far, considering they both had secrets to keep.

His final comment did make her pause. Shit! Of course, Dr. Lecter's lawyer wouldn't be happy to hear that his client was doing deals with the FBI all on his own. And of course, Crawford wouldn't be happy to hear she had just told the lawyer about it. "Ah, yes. Dr. Lecter didn't tell me he wanted to involve you," she said carefully, "but I'll notify Agent Crawford."

He gracefully accepted the torn paper, scanning the inked numbers and memorizing the number, and filing it away in his pocket. He had a feeling that he would be dealing with Agent Starling far more than this one interaction. So far... and yet, what might be missing? He didn't know what games Hannibal might be playing... which would be for his own amusement, but Thomas could play his own, for the sake of his client's wellbeing... and his own career. Defending his infamous client had brought him notoriety... and prestige. The fact that Dr. Lecter hadn't gotten a one way to ticket to the electric chair was in part thanks to his prowess. "It must have slipped his mind," he said, with a polite smile, as if to absolve all parties from this little faux pas. He had no reason to antagonize her at this juncture... when he wanted her to keep him in the loop of what she might know. "I will appreciate if you have me present at your next meeting with my client. Well, it's nearly required by law," he added, still coolly affable.

Baghra shook her head. ❝ On the contrary. I want no one to ever discover what you possess until the right moment. ❞ The fact that Aleksander would be searching, would hold his ear to the ground for any bear mention of such a gift in the world–

Well, Baghra knew he’d been doing it for years already.

❝ There will come a moment when your power will make you impenetrable. When it will be the only thing capable of saving this wretched country. I intend for you not to reveal such a power until that moment. ❞

There were, of course, other pieces along the chessboard that would need to move into place. While she knew Aleksander could not enact every part of his plans yet, she had to keep it that way.

Until the right moment. Now what would that be? But he had a feeling that she won't tell him. As sweet as the words are — all powerful, saviour — words for a lamb before the slaughter, or a soldier before a battlefield. He doesn't care about being a hero — only about getting rid of the royal line. He took a bite of the food, as if at least convinced tonight isn't the night she'll poison him. Besides, she had all of the time he was unconscious to stick him with a kitchen knife, anyways. "That may take a few lifetimes," he mused dryly. "If you're a healer and this is power that allegedly no one has ever seen before, the royal family may very well die of a old age before I ever get to such a point." Nor was he too keen on the prospect of utilizing powers in a... combative way. He'd hid away precisely so he won't be made to kill others...

WHAT IF ... Anne Boleyn had given birth to a second child in 1536... a BOY.

My favorite Tudor costumes (20/37):

Anne Boleyn’s sheer purple dress in The Tudors (2008)

for Anon.