I'M BEGGING FOR YOU TO
TAKE MY HAND, WRECK
MY PLANS, THAT'S MY MAN.

IF HONESTY MEANS TELLING YOU THE TRUTH

Artists see the world through a different lens comparatively to the rest of the people around them. Their worldview is widened, enlightened to the beauties around them. The way that the light casts over a mountain, illuminating just one side to show its natural beauty. Or how the wind blowing ever so slightly allows for the sway and dance of the trees to be seen. Artists have a knack for seeing these small things and transporting into the medium of their choice. Some choose to pour their emotions and their views into words, trying to help broaden other people's sights through the layman's terms they use every single day. Some choose to paint, or sketch, or simply draw the things they see in front of them. Illuminating the thing they believe to be packed full of beauty — taking their own creative liberties for how they show that to the rest of the world. Because, after all, each individual artist looks at something (at their muse, perhaps) and can envision it a thousand different ways. All of which in hopes to show the people who do not see the world in the same way what beautiful things they are missing out on. Just what in their life could be different if they took a moment to stop and smell the roses, or if they sat out on their porch as the sun set allowing them to take in the pink and orange hues that dust across the slowly-turning night sky. What could be different if they allowed themselves the moment to lay out in the grass and stare at the clouds, imagining just what shapes they formed. Allowing themselves to look at the world with the same unbridled joy and curiosity they once held as mere children. Yet, artists are burdened with the flip-side as well. When hyperaware of one thing, all of the others things will begin to come into focus and suddenly they're seeing the world for not only its beauty but also all of the things that can go wrong. That's why art is so subjective — it depends on the artist and what they decided to focus upon. Whether they decided to speak about life and vitality or the beauty of the world, or if they wanted to speak about death and the all-encompassing, world shattering feeling that comes with it.

And for every artist, a muse will follow (or, perhaps, the artist follows the muse). The one person who can keep them grounded, keep them from floating off into the world they so desperately crave to be within. Their muse is the person that enlightens them, inspires them to be better than they needed to be. And in turn, the artist helps to show their muse the world they know. Like two people sculpted from the same block of clay, two people built from the same star — the last two pieces to a puzzle picture waiting to be seen. Two people who were meant to find each other, for fate will always bring them together because the world needs them. Because the world will always need an artist and their muse — just as an academic needs their studies, as a child needs their parents, just as the sky needs the sun, as the moon needs the stars; and, in particular, just as a poet needs their words, as a painter needs their paints, and a singer needs their voice. For the world needs the people who use their outlets to show its beauty, just as it needs the people who use their outlets to show the ugly, and just as it needs the people who spend their entire life fighting to find reason why it all happens.

And despite this innate need of the world for these people — society emphasizes the need for one over the others. Society looks down upon those who say the world is ugly or show all of the bad things — look down upon the poets who speak of death or artists that show the darkness surrounding them. Society expects, no, it wants the world to be shown in a lightness. Wants it to be shown with only the good — none of the bad.

Benedict Bridgerton had found his muse when he was just a mere boy — his heart had been stolen by his muse and from then on, everything he saw in the world always came back to her. He saw the stars in the sky and couldn't help but relate them back to the way her blue eyes shined underneath the night sky. He saw her eyes in the blues of the lakes he saw every time he closed his eyes, the same lakes he painted every season of the year in the hopes that one day he would be able to give them to her. He saw her honey blonde hair in the way that the broken rays of sun came through the window and hit the sun-bleached books on the shelves of Aubrey Hall. He heard her laugh in every breeze of the wind against his favorite oak tree on their Bridgerton property. He could close his eyes and see each and every feature that made up her perfect face, like something etched into the lids of his eyes. A moment, a picture he cherished so dearly. Because, while she was and forever would be his muse, he was never going to have her. She would never be his — a fact that he was well-aware of. A fact that, while painful and something he wished weren't true, he had come to live with. But, it never stopped him from being constantly inspired by the way that she so effortlessly lived and breathed and made the world a better place. Whether it be with her soft-spoken voice, the honey blonde hair that he so desperately craved to see let down from the up-do's society deems acceptable, or even the scent of lavender and spring-time she always seems to carry. Everything about her made his knees weak, made him ready to grovel and beg and say to hell with the world. Because, for her, he would damn all of the rules of society if it meant he could be with her.

Guinevere Lillian Pembroke had been a staple at the Bridgerton household, just as her brothers and just as her cousins had been — a benefit of Violet, Lillian, and Cordelia being long-time friends from when they all entered society. Guinevere was no stranger in the home, especially to the elder Bridgerton siblings. Especially to Benedict Bridgerton. Her three older brothers former fast friendships with the oldest Bridgerton's — especially Benedict and Phineas, there were many summers spent traveling between Pembroke and Kent. So much so that Guinevere knew the halls of Aubrey Hall like the back of her hand. She knew her favorite places to go on the grounds, especially when unattended (much to her mothers chagrin) (though, Violet Bridgerton couldn't help but see herself in the young girl and aided in her ability to run off and enjoy her explorations) (for Violet Bridgerton would always protect any girl that kept her wallflower tendencies and her drive to know anything about the world). Guinevere had a genuine curiosity about the world around her — she always wanted to know more about the things going on around her, her nose was always in a book trying to quench her thirst for knowledge. Guinevere Pembroke, despite her want to know more about the world, was always enamored with the books about love. Shakespeare's sonnets and his plays all describing the various ways that people fall in love and how, in the end, they die for it too. She had always been waiting for the moment her suitor could come riding in — much like a knight in shining armor. But, she also knew there was no need for a suitor to come riding in. She had met him when she was a child, in the stairway of Aubrey Hall as she bumped into him and caused him to fall back down the stairs he had just walked up.

See, Benedict Bridgerton remembered that day often, the five-year-old Guinevere giggling over his nine-year-old self falling down the stairs. And it wasn't until she was nineteen to his three-and-twenty (right after he had come back from Cambridge) that he realized there was more than just friendship — but, by then he had a conflict of interest. He was best friends with her older brother and if there was one thing he valued, it was being a good friend. So, of course, he would never ask for her hand or even ask her to dance during her first season out. But now, at the age of two-and-twenty (nearing the great of her three-and-twenty year), Guinevere quite frankly cannot think about anyone else. She cannot fathom the idea of dancing with another suitor, of having another potential courtship occurring. Guinevere only wanted one person — her heart was sculpted from the same clay as his (or at least she hoped it was). He consumed her every thought, her every need, her everything. And suddenly Benedict Bridgerton was tasked with the hard battle of choosing himself, allowing himself the chance to love, or choosing to keep the peace and in turn, break the heart of the girl he's loved for as long as he can remember.

For every artist deserves their muse; because all artists deserve the person who shows them the beauty of their surroundings.

WELL, I'M STILL IN LOVE WITH YOU

GUINEVERE LILLIAN PEMBROOKE
portrayed by imogen waterhouse

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ADDITIONAL CAST
Hugh Grant ... Earl Arthur Pembroke of Pembroke
Rosamund Pike ... Countess Cordelia Pembroke
Toby Regbo ... Earl Christopher Pembroke
Josh Whitehouse ... The Hon Phineas Pembroke
Douglass Booth ... The Hon Ambrose Pembroke
Jude Law ... Marquess Augustus Fitzroy of Northampton
Emily Blunt ... Marchioness Lillian Fitzroy
Kristine Frøseth ... Lady Olive Cordelia Fitzroy
Joanna Vanderham ... Lady Emmeline Fitzroy
Elle Fanning ... Lady Dorothy Fitzroy
(Y!)Mackenzie Foy ... Lady Eleanor Fitzroy
Lily James ... Lady Wilhelmina Alice Fortescue
Alisha Boe ... Lady Cecelia Madelene Berkeley
Callum Turner ... Viscount Nathaniel Haddington
Charlie Cox ... The Hon Theodore St. Vincent

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AUTHORS NOTE

*sigh*

How'd we get here, you may ask? Me, a bored post-grad waiting to start their new job while avoiding their impending need to study for the MCAT which they take in April and the need to work on their graduate school applications (I'm so real), starting to read Colin Bridgerton's story despite never reading a Bridgerton book or watching the show. I literally just went down a rabbit hole on tiktok of polin edits and said "yeah fuck it I'll read a book for the first time in years for this" and then I did. And then the rabbit hole continues and suddenly I was staring at Colin Bridgerton edits (see: a hymn of the heart) which then led me to Benedict. Slowly (within minutes) I was 😩🤌🏻✨ pulled into this desire to call him my pookie bear and read *his* book too. (I have still not started bc I haven't finished Colin's, I need to but I've been "studying" (I need to lock in) and starting work) (I want to die).

And well, long story short, here we are! Another fic that I may or may not actually write (I have been making edits tho so it's broken me from that slump) 🤭. Though, to be fair, season 3 will most likely make me more inspired to write more and that's AFTER my MCAT test date so I'll definitely be more free to write then!

Hope you guys enjoyed this summary (and if you've seen my TikTok's, I hope you've enjoyed those as well), let me know your thoughts and feelings!!!

DISCLAIMERS
1. I do not own any of the plot lines and or characters created for the Bridgerton series (books and show included). Any and all other characters and plot lines that are not seen in the books/show are my own, please don't steal.

2. This book may contain some of these things: violence, blood, gore, death, drugs, alcohol consumption, sex, crude language, mental health, etc. Please do not interact with this material if it will mess with your mental health!

DEDICATIONS
to the hogwarts founders: ownthelight, angeIeyes,
findtheforce
to the milfs: halosnite, foxgIoves, fxllmoons, awfulmoons, bananapopsicIes
and to my many other friends whom I love and appreciate: spacemania, silksenses, sombersuns, arsvenal, aethrastic_dreamxx, bayports, luckyvirgo, elfaouly, bokuroos, xonceuponatimex, dunbonnet, protectremus, sanktham, luckyvirgo, REGULUSBLVCK, svperboy, starryeyedturtle!

thank you for reading,
AN ELEGY TO ETERNITY.