Post by Swith on Jan 19, 2016 15:35:22 GMT -4
NOMINATION 1: Of Company, Crown, and Conroy
Nominated by: Alleniana
Notes by Alleniana: "It's not so much the romance so much as just the reality and vividness of the characters and their interaction; I would put it under heartwarming if that wasn't combined with tear-jerker."
[Amin Note: not all NS formatting will work on this OSF. Apologies. The formatted post can be viewed here]
A self portrait of Victoria
Drawn during her trips across Britain
Holkham Hall, Norfolk
March 4th, 1835
Victoria hated this. These trips were pointless to her. She'd scream and rage within herself, calling on God to curse her mother and Sir John Conroy for their oppressive attitude towards her. All day everyday, she was boxed and regulated to within an inch of her life. It became a monotonous hell of a childhood. Lessons, short periods of relaxation, lessons. Day in day out. It bothered her immensely. No childhood friends for they were all deemed 'undesirables' by her mother and the Lord. And now here she was, at a familial stay at Holkham Hall in Norfolk with a dozen people she knew only through occasional correspondence and few meetings and and half a dozen people she'd never even met before, let alone knew anything of their person.
She forced a smile to her face and stepped out of the carriage. Sir Conroy, ever the gentleman in public, chivalrously assisted her in stepping down onto the cobbled road and she repaid him in kind with a clearly obvious fake smile. He scowled and she merely continued walking, leaving the equerry of the Duchess of Kent alone. "Fetch my bags for me, if you could do please, Sir." She called to him as she approached the rest of her entourage. The gathering was plentiful and large, yet she only knew one of the individuals present well enough: her uncle, William, King.
"It is good to see you, your Majesty." She performed a graceful courtesy, picking up her dress in a manner most ladylike.
At that, William scoffed and waved her off most un-sovereign like.
"Victoria, my name is William and I expect you to use it." A small smile spread across his lips and it was only then Victoria noticed how weary the man looked. His eye sockets were powered, intensively, clearly at some intention to remove the black rings beginning to form around them, his face creased when his lips extended or parted and his cheeks were beginning to become rather hollow. This was not the man she could recall having seen a few years prior, nor the one captured in the few portraits she had seen. Despite their friendlessness, Victoria knew there was a little animosity between her uncle and herself. Ever since their trips earlier, specifically the ones to Malvern Hills, she had seen him scowl and frown at how the people welcomed her. It had dawned on her early on that William saw her more as a rival than his heir and she tried her best to avoid these trips. Her mother did not oblige.
Just as Victoria was about to continue, a hand placed itself on her shoulder. It was a feeling she despised with every fibre of her being. It was control. She clenched her teeth slightly, clasping her hands together.
"Hello, mother." Was all she said. William gave a quick glance at the two and furrowed his brow.
"Come dear." Mary Louise Victoria told her daughter. "We have much to do, much to do indeed."
"Leave her be, woman." William declared, grabbing onto the German woman's hand and prying it off the shoulder of his niece.
"Your Majesty, I would please request you leave par-" William raised his hand in a stopping gesture and Victoria merely shook her head.
"Uncle, its fine tru-" The King of Britain, Ireland and Hanover raised his hand in refusal again. The heir presumptive took note and saw within the man that was King a determination that she could associate with the stories she had heard and the portraits she had witnessed. Here she saw the man whom had fought in the Americas, ascended the throne and battled with Whig and Tory alike in Parliament attempting to impose his ideas on them before being battled back by the staunch will of the people's support of the Whigs.
William's glance returned to the German Princess. "I would highly suggest you leave Victoria be for the duration of this trip. Allow her freedom of reign, or God so help me I will see you sent packing back to Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld faster than you can say 'Achtung' . You may have been married to my brother, but he's long gone and the rumours circling you are disgusting. Go, out of my sight."
"Your Majesty, I implore you please!"
"I hope to live to the day Victoria reaches 18, so you will never be regent of this country!" With that, the individuals nearby had heard the King's outburst but played it so as if they had paid no mind. Quickly and under watchful gaze, the Princess Victoria of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld clutched the edges of her dress and parted from her daughter and her brother in law. With that dealt with, William gave another weary and tired smile to his niece and began to personally give her a tour of the Country House, the Hall of Holkham.
After the tour, as Monarch and Heir stepped down the illustrious stairs of the Marble Hall, Dash, Victoria's Charles Spaniel, began a barking frenzy and its little legs went into a scurry as it descended down the stairs, ahead of William and Victoria. Both looked up, startled, and saw that the tiny dog was circling the legs of another individual. He was a tall lad, lean, but well bit - every conception of Germanic identity could be seen in this man - dark haired, with piercing brown eyes. He knelt down, scratching the dog on its quaint head and sent it scurrying back to Victoria, whom gave a smile - a genuine one - to this newcomer.
"Victoria?" William interjected. "May I introduce you to Frederick Wilhelm of Prussia, grandson of the Prussian King. He is serving as my ward."
Victoria smiled as the German took her hand in a very gentlemanly fashion, placing a kiss on her fingers. Perhaps this trip wont be so bad after all.
The East India House, London
Lahore, Sikh Empire
11th March
The sun of the Indian Subcontinent was a painful one indeed. Friedrich von Hohenzollern, Captain of the Hanoverian Regiment of India, - one of the most respected regiments in the British Armed Forces - wiped his brow with a damp cloth and exhaled greatly. He took a swig from his water canister, before continuing to march in tune with his men. Like their British counterparts the staunch and stalwart men of Hanover were dressed in red, a contrast to the mixed and match uniforms of the Company Soldiers - many of whom wore red, but not as deep as that of the proper British soldiers - and the princely states' troops, a vast array of oranges, greens and purples. Gurkhas, too, were in the British force but the Hanoverian could not see any from his position as the holder of the rear guard.
The gargantuan army of India was somewhat 1,750,000 men strong if the most recent censuses could be taken as accurate, which they generally were. Ever since Bentinck's declaration of war a mass mobilisation had begun across India. The troops closest to the Sikh Empire were up and around first and all the rest had become a ripple effect of grand proportions. Whilst it was not expected that all the 1,750,000 men would be needed to be used to assault the Empire, the British and Princes knew the Sikh were hardy warriors indeed. 'Tough buggers', as they had been described by one of the Company Officials coming along with the army. This group, the army moving to assault the important city of Lahore was known as The Army of Delhi. The Army of Bengal, it had been heard, was already marching towards the besieged town of Dehradun to relieve it and then strike into Kashmir, to complete the two pronged attack favoured by the organisers of the affair.
Friedrich's Hanoverians were a respected bunch. To the Company soldiers whom would mutter about how Germans were here in British land, they would respond by tapping the cuffs on their arms with the word GIBRALTAR proudly sown into them. This particularly Hanoverian Regiment had also been the one that had served during the Great Siege of Gibraltar decades prior, and the honour of such a heritage was kept well preserved by her new additions that had learned of the triumph. Just as the Hanoverian was about to give it another glance and smile happily, a horseman rode by with eagerness and speed. The man was blowing his bugle, giving the call for battle formations. Friedrich clenched his teeth, called the order and the Hanoverians turned to form their battle lines. The assault on Lahore had begun, and the cannon signalled the battle cries of the opening of this orchestra of war.
A painting of the hills of Fraser Canyon
The Confluence of the Fraser and Thompson Rivers, Canadian Wilderness, British Claimed Canada
27th March, 1835
Canada was an untamed land. Rolling hills, forests as old as time and animals aplenty that filled the forests with sounds of life and flourish. British Columbia, as it was called, was a fledgling colony. Vancouver had a few thousand people living in it at best, many hopeful colonialists whom sought to make plenty of profit in the Lumber business. Others were those whom sought to start anew, in a new land of emptiness - where one could make a name for themselves through merit and hard work, not the entrenchment of classes found in Europe.
One of these hardy individuals was Lachlan McDougall, a Scots born man whom boarded the ship Valiant straight to Vancouver when he came of age. He was an adventurous lad, burly and homely too. And now he found himself exploring the Canadian Wilderness with little more than a dog as a companion. He trekked all day, marking paths out for future travellers. He did have accommodation aplenty in Vancouver, but his true employment was the underhand employment the British Governor had given him to survey the land for more suitable colonies to expand British influence. Whilst British claims of Canada drove straight through its heartland and towards the Hudson Bay, little had been done to further this claim - many even believed Canada was a lost cause - and Canada slowly but surely became less important to the eyes of British Ministers whilst South Africa, New Zealand and other areas grew.
Crunch
Crunch
His boots and his trekking stick would always make that relatively soothing sound against the dirt paths one could navigate. Churning against the leaves and the rocks. Little else made much of a noticeable sound, save the chirping of birds, the growls of animals and the whooshing of rivers. Which he had indeed begun to hear. He deduced it must've been either the Fraser or the Thompson, he knew from his cartography that both carved the landscape relatively nearby. And, being human as he was, he went to investigate not only to satisfy his curiosity but also to quench his thirst and cool down with a bathe, that he looked forward to.
As he emerged from the brush, he was slightly perplexed. It was a confluence of the rivers, or that is what he assumed. He drew forth his map from his rucksack, carefully charting down and drawing a brief sketch of this geographic detail. Soon, he folded the parchment neatly, put it into his rucksack and grabbed a goatskin sack. Entering the water at boot depth, after prodding it carefully with his trekking stick, he began to fill his flask with water. As he sealed it once more and prepared to remove his clothing to bathe properly, a shimmer caught his eye. He looked once more, furrowing his brow before running a hand across his auburn beard. His hand dove into the water, causing ripples to gracefully wave away. He pulled his hand out after he was certain he was holding onto what he had seen and washed the bits of dirt obscuring his vision entirely. He held it up to the sun, awestruck.
Gold.
From: The Office of Foreign Secretary Henry John Temple, 3rd Viscount Palmerston
To: The Office of Foreign Secretary Alexandros Mavrokordatos
[/hr]
Sir,
[blocktext]Whilst the plight of the Greeks is a terrible thing that had ached the hearts of philosophers and economists across Britain, whom view the Classical States of Greece with pomp and splendour and wish to help recreate the glory of Athens, Britain cannot commit herself to a military venture to aid you against Venetians, Turks and Epirusians at this moment in time. However, Britain will be able to support the Greek cause diplomatically and give her blessing to the Greeks in the events that Venice or the barbaric Turks from the steppes seek to cause harm to the Greek Nation we helped so graciously create. It may be possible for the fleet at Malta to provide our diplomatic words with the support of cannon, but far flung campaigns with ground troops may not be expected. Regardless, Britain will stand ready to assist you in any way she can.
May God Bless You,
Henry John Temple, 3rd Viscount Palmerston, Acting in the Interests of His Majesty, King William IV.[/quote]
From: The Office of Foreign Secretary Henry John Temple, 3rd Viscount Palmerston
To: The Office of His Most Gracious Sovereign, King Ferdinand II de Bourbon
[/hr]
Your Grace,
Britain has always looked upon the Italian Peoples favourably; for your peninsula brought the world the much needed nation of Rome: They whom brought us under their wing, made us great and nurtured us to become the nations Europe has today. Whilst the Royal Navy would be absolutely pleased to fight ship-by-ship with their Italian Brethren, and we do highly approve of your suggestion of joint naval defences of the Mediterranean, we do not see it as a necessary thing you require your navy to commit to. We find it it may be better to keep your navy to protect your own shores against hostile attack from your fellow Italian States.
Additionally, whilst Britain would consider a defensive alliance our current relations with the Kingdom of Catalonia may be conflicting with yours. It is known in the British Parliament that your two nations do not see eye-to-eye on all issues, and such an alliance may make our Catalonia Compatriots look at us unfavourably.
I am sure you understand,
May God Bless You,
Henry John Temple, 3rd Viscount Palmerston, Acting in the Interests of His Majesty, King William IV.[/quote]
Nominated by: Alleniana
Notes by Alleniana: "It's not so much the romance so much as just the reality and vividness of the characters and their interaction; I would put it under heartwarming if that wasn't combined with tear-jerker."
[Amin Note: not all NS formatting will work on this OSF. Apologies. The formatted post can be viewed here]
ENTRY BEST ROMANTIC SINGLE POST
The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland
Dieu et Mon Droit
Chapter 2: Of Company, Crown and Conroy
Dieu et Mon Droit
Chapter 2: Of Company, Crown and Conroy
A self portrait of Victoria
Drawn during her trips across Britain
Holkham Hall, Norfolk
March 4th, 1835
Victoria hated this. These trips were pointless to her. She'd scream and rage within herself, calling on God to curse her mother and Sir John Conroy for their oppressive attitude towards her. All day everyday, she was boxed and regulated to within an inch of her life. It became a monotonous hell of a childhood. Lessons, short periods of relaxation, lessons. Day in day out. It bothered her immensely. No childhood friends for they were all deemed 'undesirables' by her mother and the Lord. And now here she was, at a familial stay at Holkham Hall in Norfolk with a dozen people she knew only through occasional correspondence and few meetings and and half a dozen people she'd never even met before, let alone knew anything of their person.
She forced a smile to her face and stepped out of the carriage. Sir Conroy, ever the gentleman in public, chivalrously assisted her in stepping down onto the cobbled road and she repaid him in kind with a clearly obvious fake smile. He scowled and she merely continued walking, leaving the equerry of the Duchess of Kent alone. "Fetch my bags for me, if you could do please, Sir." She called to him as she approached the rest of her entourage. The gathering was plentiful and large, yet she only knew one of the individuals present well enough: her uncle, William, King.
"It is good to see you, your Majesty." She performed a graceful courtesy, picking up her dress in a manner most ladylike.
At that, William scoffed and waved her off most un-sovereign like.
"Victoria, my name is William and I expect you to use it." A small smile spread across his lips and it was only then Victoria noticed how weary the man looked. His eye sockets were powered, intensively, clearly at some intention to remove the black rings beginning to form around them, his face creased when his lips extended or parted and his cheeks were beginning to become rather hollow. This was not the man she could recall having seen a few years prior, nor the one captured in the few portraits she had seen. Despite their friendlessness, Victoria knew there was a little animosity between her uncle and herself. Ever since their trips earlier, specifically the ones to Malvern Hills, she had seen him scowl and frown at how the people welcomed her. It had dawned on her early on that William saw her more as a rival than his heir and she tried her best to avoid these trips. Her mother did not oblige.
Just as Victoria was about to continue, a hand placed itself on her shoulder. It was a feeling she despised with every fibre of her being. It was control. She clenched her teeth slightly, clasping her hands together.
"Hello, mother." Was all she said. William gave a quick glance at the two and furrowed his brow.
"Come dear." Mary Louise Victoria told her daughter. "We have much to do, much to do indeed."
"Leave her be, woman." William declared, grabbing onto the German woman's hand and prying it off the shoulder of his niece.
"Your Majesty, I would please request you leave par-" William raised his hand in a stopping gesture and Victoria merely shook her head.
"Uncle, its fine tru-" The King of Britain, Ireland and Hanover raised his hand in refusal again. The heir presumptive took note and saw within the man that was King a determination that she could associate with the stories she had heard and the portraits she had witnessed. Here she saw the man whom had fought in the Americas, ascended the throne and battled with Whig and Tory alike in Parliament attempting to impose his ideas on them before being battled back by the staunch will of the people's support of the Whigs.
William's glance returned to the German Princess. "I would highly suggest you leave Victoria be for the duration of this trip. Allow her freedom of reign, or God so help me I will see you sent packing back to Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld faster than you can say 'Achtung' . You may have been married to my brother, but he's long gone and the rumours circling you are disgusting. Go, out of my sight."
"Your Majesty, I implore you please!"
"I hope to live to the day Victoria reaches 18, so you will never be regent of this country!" With that, the individuals nearby had heard the King's outburst but played it so as if they had paid no mind. Quickly and under watchful gaze, the Princess Victoria of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld clutched the edges of her dress and parted from her daughter and her brother in law. With that dealt with, William gave another weary and tired smile to his niece and began to personally give her a tour of the Country House, the Hall of Holkham.
After the tour, as Monarch and Heir stepped down the illustrious stairs of the Marble Hall, Dash, Victoria's Charles Spaniel, began a barking frenzy and its little legs went into a scurry as it descended down the stairs, ahead of William and Victoria. Both looked up, startled, and saw that the tiny dog was circling the legs of another individual. He was a tall lad, lean, but well bit - every conception of Germanic identity could be seen in this man - dark haired, with piercing brown eyes. He knelt down, scratching the dog on its quaint head and sent it scurrying back to Victoria, whom gave a smile - a genuine one - to this newcomer.
"Victoria?" William interjected. "May I introduce you to Frederick Wilhelm of Prussia, grandson of the Prussian King. He is serving as my ward."
Victoria smiled as the German took her hand in a very gentlemanly fashion, placing a kiss on her fingers. Perhaps this trip wont be so bad after all.
The East India House, London
Lahore, Sikh Empire
11th March
The sun of the Indian Subcontinent was a painful one indeed. Friedrich von Hohenzollern, Captain of the Hanoverian Regiment of India, - one of the most respected regiments in the British Armed Forces - wiped his brow with a damp cloth and exhaled greatly. He took a swig from his water canister, before continuing to march in tune with his men. Like their British counterparts the staunch and stalwart men of Hanover were dressed in red, a contrast to the mixed and match uniforms of the Company Soldiers - many of whom wore red, but not as deep as that of the proper British soldiers - and the princely states' troops, a vast array of oranges, greens and purples. Gurkhas, too, were in the British force but the Hanoverian could not see any from his position as the holder of the rear guard.
The gargantuan army of India was somewhat 1,750,000 men strong if the most recent censuses could be taken as accurate, which they generally were. Ever since Bentinck's declaration of war a mass mobilisation had begun across India. The troops closest to the Sikh Empire were up and around first and all the rest had become a ripple effect of grand proportions. Whilst it was not expected that all the 1,750,000 men would be needed to be used to assault the Empire, the British and Princes knew the Sikh were hardy warriors indeed. 'Tough buggers', as they had been described by one of the Company Officials coming along with the army. This group, the army moving to assault the important city of Lahore was known as The Army of Delhi. The Army of Bengal, it had been heard, was already marching towards the besieged town of Dehradun to relieve it and then strike into Kashmir, to complete the two pronged attack favoured by the organisers of the affair.
Friedrich's Hanoverians were a respected bunch. To the Company soldiers whom would mutter about how Germans were here in British land, they would respond by tapping the cuffs on their arms with the word GIBRALTAR proudly sown into them. This particularly Hanoverian Regiment had also been the one that had served during the Great Siege of Gibraltar decades prior, and the honour of such a heritage was kept well preserved by her new additions that had learned of the triumph. Just as the Hanoverian was about to give it another glance and smile happily, a horseman rode by with eagerness and speed. The man was blowing his bugle, giving the call for battle formations. Friedrich clenched his teeth, called the order and the Hanoverians turned to form their battle lines. The assault on Lahore had begun, and the cannon signalled the battle cries of the opening of this orchestra of war.
A painting of the hills of Fraser Canyon
The Confluence of the Fraser and Thompson Rivers, Canadian Wilderness, British Claimed Canada
27th March, 1835
Canada was an untamed land. Rolling hills, forests as old as time and animals aplenty that filled the forests with sounds of life and flourish. British Columbia, as it was called, was a fledgling colony. Vancouver had a few thousand people living in it at best, many hopeful colonialists whom sought to make plenty of profit in the Lumber business. Others were those whom sought to start anew, in a new land of emptiness - where one could make a name for themselves through merit and hard work, not the entrenchment of classes found in Europe.
One of these hardy individuals was Lachlan McDougall, a Scots born man whom boarded the ship Valiant straight to Vancouver when he came of age. He was an adventurous lad, burly and homely too. And now he found himself exploring the Canadian Wilderness with little more than a dog as a companion. He trekked all day, marking paths out for future travellers. He did have accommodation aplenty in Vancouver, but his true employment was the underhand employment the British Governor had given him to survey the land for more suitable colonies to expand British influence. Whilst British claims of Canada drove straight through its heartland and towards the Hudson Bay, little had been done to further this claim - many even believed Canada was a lost cause - and Canada slowly but surely became less important to the eyes of British Ministers whilst South Africa, New Zealand and other areas grew.
Crunch
Crunch
His boots and his trekking stick would always make that relatively soothing sound against the dirt paths one could navigate. Churning against the leaves and the rocks. Little else made much of a noticeable sound, save the chirping of birds, the growls of animals and the whooshing of rivers. Which he had indeed begun to hear. He deduced it must've been either the Fraser or the Thompson, he knew from his cartography that both carved the landscape relatively nearby. And, being human as he was, he went to investigate not only to satisfy his curiosity but also to quench his thirst and cool down with a bathe, that he looked forward to.
As he emerged from the brush, he was slightly perplexed. It was a confluence of the rivers, or that is what he assumed. He drew forth his map from his rucksack, carefully charting down and drawing a brief sketch of this geographic detail. Soon, he folded the parchment neatly, put it into his rucksack and grabbed a goatskin sack. Entering the water at boot depth, after prodding it carefully with his trekking stick, he began to fill his flask with water. As he sealed it once more and prepared to remove his clothing to bathe properly, a shimmer caught his eye. He looked once more, furrowing his brow before running a hand across his auburn beard. His hand dove into the water, causing ripples to gracefully wave away. He pulled his hand out after he was certain he was holding onto what he had seen and washed the bits of dirt obscuring his vision entirely. He held it up to the sun, awestruck.
Gold.
From: The Office of Foreign Secretary Henry John Temple, 3rd Viscount Palmerston
To: The Office of Foreign Secretary Alexandros Mavrokordatos
Sir,
[blocktext]Whilst the plight of the Greeks is a terrible thing that had ached the hearts of philosophers and economists across Britain, whom view the Classical States of Greece with pomp and splendour and wish to help recreate the glory of Athens, Britain cannot commit herself to a military venture to aid you against Venetians, Turks and Epirusians at this moment in time. However, Britain will be able to support the Greek cause diplomatically and give her blessing to the Greeks in the events that Venice or the barbaric Turks from the steppes seek to cause harm to the Greek Nation we helped so graciously create. It may be possible for the fleet at Malta to provide our diplomatic words with the support of cannon, but far flung campaigns with ground troops may not be expected. Regardless, Britain will stand ready to assist you in any way she can.
May God Bless You,
Henry John Temple, 3rd Viscount Palmerston, Acting in the Interests of His Majesty, King William IV.[/quote]
From: The Office of Foreign Secretary Henry John Temple, 3rd Viscount Palmerston
To: The Office of His Most Gracious Sovereign, King Ferdinand II de Bourbon
Your Grace,
Britain has always looked upon the Italian Peoples favourably; for your peninsula brought the world the much needed nation of Rome: They whom brought us under their wing, made us great and nurtured us to become the nations Europe has today. Whilst the Royal Navy would be absolutely pleased to fight ship-by-ship with their Italian Brethren, and we do highly approve of your suggestion of joint naval defences of the Mediterranean, we do not see it as a necessary thing you require your navy to commit to. We find it it may be better to keep your navy to protect your own shores against hostile attack from your fellow Italian States.
Additionally, whilst Britain would consider a defensive alliance our current relations with the Kingdom of Catalonia may be conflicting with yours. It is known in the British Parliament that your two nations do not see eye-to-eye on all issues, and such an alliance may make our Catalonia Compatriots look at us unfavourably.
I am sure you understand,
May God Bless You,
Henry John Temple, 3rd Viscount Palmerston, Acting in the Interests of His Majesty, King William IV.[/quote]