No Without-Book Prologue

"They have their exits and their entrances."

March 29th

Albion Manor was rarely a dull place. Lord Albion himself was always running to and fro to satisfy his responsibilities to the purse of the realm. His lady wife was never without a project, whether it was illustrating a book of poetry or rearranging the furniture in search of perfect chromatic harmony. Adrian's idle hours had been eaten up by his baby son, Frederick, who was the darling of the family. Adrian's wife, Ann, made it seem like she had thirty-six hours in day - she doted on Frederick, competed in archery, and was part of the three-headed monster that was the Theatrical Society of Verona, alongside the Albion daughters, Cherry and Morgaine.

Women Grow By Men

"Giddy Fortune's furious fickle wheel."

March 6th

Kent felt sick. At the moment it happened, he had been thinking of Cornwall. It had never been right to want his sister's unwanted husband. Yet, he had sat down to breakfast yearning to be wrong. He wanted Cornwall's thimbleful of emotions back in his possession, to displace all his misery with love. He wanted to push his sister, his lifelong protector, out of her place with her husband. Those had been his thoughts as Regan rose from the breakfast table and collapsed.

Not the Flower of Courtesy

Content Warning: Click here for warnings (possible spoilers)

**NSFW**

"There is no vice so simple but assumes some mark of virtue on his outward parts."

February 23rd

Pan was determined not to be bored. Business was slow tonight, surely because of the weather. Snow and ice made sneaking out for a screw too much for most people. He understood. He had never liked to be outside in the snow himself. If he ever decided to uproot again, he was going someplace warm. He hadn't had much choice last time.

Younger Than She

"For what is wedlock forced but a hell?"

February 19th

As the sun set on her eldest's birthday, Goneril had retreated into her study. Children's birthdays were even worse than her own for reminding her of her age. Miranda was twenty-two, which meant Goneril was forty-four. She would be married twenty-five years come May. Twenty-five years was more than half of her life; in turn, that meant she had spent more of her life married to Albany than not. For all of that, she hadn't even the consolation of a married heiress; Miranda was as stubborn and childish at twenty-two as she had been at sixteen.

That, unlike age, was something Goneril could change.

Makeovers: Gender-Bender Edition

You nominated, I procrastinated. With no further ado, some genderbent Veronese for your viewing pleasure: