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Ranking The Duchess of Cambridge’s Christmas Day Looks
8. 2013 - McQ by Alexander McQueen Coat, Aquatalia Rhumba Boots, Gina Foster Hat, Kiki McDonough Diamond and Green Amethyst Earrings | for me, this was just the least interesting look. Everything was very Kate-appropriate and this isn’t my favourite coatdress
7. 2015 - Sportmax Green Coat, Great Plains Cezanne Pleated Dress, Sylvia Fletcher for Lock Hatters Hat, Aquatalia Rhumba Boots, Mulberry Bayswater Bag, Cornelia James Imogen Gloves, Kiki McDonough Diamond and Green Amethyst Earrings, UFO Brooch | this look is stunning and if she’d worn it any other day I’d have loved it. It was just too dull a green for Christmas
6. 2011 - Independent British Dressmaker-designed Coat, Mascaro Shoes, Jane Corbett Hat, Mulberry Bayswater Clutch, Kiki McDonough Diamond and Green Amethyst Earrings | the aubergine colour is fantastic but there is nothing else to write home about in this look
5. 2012 - Hobbs Celeste Coat, Aquatalia Regal Boots, Hugo Boss Scarf, Gucci Clutch, Kiki McDonough Diamond and Green Amethyst Earrings | this was all repeats but I loved it. The scarf is great and the up-do without a hat is my favourite thing
4. 2016 - Hobbs Celeste Coat, ASOS Faux Fur Collar, Tod’s Fringed Leather Pumps, Mulberry Bayswater Clutch, HM The Queen’s Pearl Earrings | for years, this was my favourite christmas look!! The coat, the colour, the collar... faultless
3. 2014 - Moloh Coat, Hobbs Shirtdress, Lock & Co Betty Boop Hat, Really Wild Clothing Scarf, Emmy Valerie Heels, Cornelia James Imogen Gloves, Catherine Zoraida Double Leaf Earrings | I was not expecting this to be so high. I loved the hat, I really like the scarf, and the texture of the coat is fascinating
2. 2017 - Miu Miu Coat, Tod’s Pumps, Mulberry Bayswater Clutch, Lacorine Alpaca Hat, Cornelia James Alice Gloves, Kiki McDonough’s Eden Diamond Flower Drop Earrings | I LOVE THIS COAT. It’s bright, it’s fun, the hat is funky af
1. 2018 - Catherine Walker Coat, Jane Taylor Halo Band, M&Co Bow Detail Gloves, Mulberry Bayswater Clutch, Gianvito Rossi Pumps, Asprey Oak Leaf Earrings, UFO Brooch | KATE IN RED IS THE MOST FESTIVE THING... plus I would die for her headbands
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One hundred and ninety-four days she’d been gone, one hundred and ninety-four days she’d been ripped from his arms and hurt.
He’d counted every single one and it’d been one hundred and ninety-four too many.
It’d turned into a routine, invariable in itself these days, even as the circumstances around it changed.
Clarke would come home, back to their tent, their pod, their cabin, their house after a long day of fighting, of hunting, of talking, of building, of leading, of rocking. She’d slip off her jacket, coat, shirt and she’d stretch out on their cot, bed and he’d settle beside her, rubbing ointment onto his hands.
Her back had scarred and now thick skin marred her pale flesh. The area around the scars would tear sometimes, bleed anew and he’d always notice, pull her aside during the day and gently tease her shirt up until he could bandage her wounds. She’d stopped arguing after sixty-three. He was glad.
She was tired today, he could tell from how the removal of her coat and shirt blended into her crawling onto their bed and laying down without even a word. He was tired too, slipping out of the next room and moving across to her to check on her, then settling beside her to start applying the ointment from the small jar they kept by their bed.
The first few times he’d done this she hadn’t noticed him counting, but then tiredness has overcome him and he’d realised his mouthing had turned to whispering.
“Bellamy, what is that?” she’d asked and he’d paused, swallowing.
“Just numbers,” he’d said.
“What are they?”
He took a breath, working ointment up her spine, and then he’d told her, “How many days you were gone.”
She’d gone quiet, then she’d sat up. “Let’s count further.”
His heart had stopped, stomach doing unhappy flips at first, but then she’d explained.
Now they counted together, one number higher each night, their ritual getting longer and neither of them caring.
“Two thousand, five hundred and four,” he finished tonight, leaning down and brushing a kiss to her spine.
“Two thousand, five hundred and five,” she murmured, closing her eyes. She always said the last number, the one for today. It was a reminder that she was there, with him. It was a reminder she was there to update the number, and would be for the rest of their lives.
He kissed her lower back and his lips lingered for a moment, then he rested his forehead against her spine, closing his eyes too. Seven years. Together.
She rolled under him and he moved partially on top of her, looking down into her face. “What’s the other number?” she said softly.
He smiled at her. “Seven hundred and eighty-four.”
She leant up, kissing him gently, arching her back under his body and pressing hers to his, wrapping her arms around his neck. He kissed her slow and sweet, neither of them possessing the energy to have sex but both of them wanting to be close.
He rolled off after a moment and she turned, curling up on top of him with her head on his chest. “We should add another room,” she said with a yawn after a moment. “Off the main room. We could use some of the metal from the fallen ark.”
He nodded, kissing her hair. “You don’t like my wooden rooms?”
“The metal would be warmer,” she said. “Safer for a fire, too.”
“I’m not sure about that,” he said. “We’ll discuss it more tomorrow. Maybe we can ask Raven for input.”
She smiled against his skin and he brushed his hand up and down her back, fingertips tracing patterns across her scars. “Maybe we can ask the grounders what they build their houses out of,” she said. “They know more than we do, after all.”
He went still under her and she lifted her head to look at him. He did not look at her in return.
“Bellamy,” she said. “You have to get over this eventually. We have a trade agreement. We live near their village.”
“I’ll get there eventually,” he said.
She snorted in the least dignified manner imaginable, in the way he adored. “It’s been seven years.”
“Well,” he said. “When they don’t kidnap any other members of my family in the next seven years... I’ll see about being over it by then.”
She groaned, burying her face against him. “You’re impossible.”
“I’m realistic,” he said. “We’re still in their territory and one of these days they’re going to get pissed at us again for it.” He kissed the top of her head. “It’s why we’re still making weapons and why we’re still preparing an army. Just in case. It doesn’t have to be that clan. It could be another. I’m practical. I don’t trust them.” Then, acting for all intents and purposes like their two year old, he added, “And you can’t make me.”
She rolled her eyes, but it eased her mind to know he was prepared for a grounder attack, even if one never came. “No, I can’t.” She wouldn’t try, either. She didn’t want him to stop protecting her from grounders. It gave her a sense of peace and safety when he blocked the door in the evenings, when he held her just a bit tighter than he had to, like he thought she’d be taken from him again. She loved the way he’d kept one hand tight against her stomach for three quarters of a year. She needed his protective spirit. She was strong and capable, she could protect herself except it never felt quite as good as when he protected her. He never made her feel like a china doll. He just made her feel precious.
“I love you,” she murmured, sleep heavy in her eyelids, causing her words to slur together.
“I love you too,” he said and brushed a soft-lipped kiss to her forehead. “Sleep well.”
Most nights she spent the last few minutes before sleep going over the things they had to do the next day, but today all she had was exhaustion, and tomorrow they were opening a school and she wasn’t sure she could even manage to say the word school right now, let alone mumble about the tasks involved in that undertaking.
“Sleep,” he murmured, like he could tell she was fighting it (he could, he always could). “It’ll all be there tomorrow.”
She made a low humming noise of contentment, pulling the thick fur blanket, the one he’d killed and skinned and cured just for her, closer to her body and his, and closed her eyes, letting sleep take her, but not away from him.
He wasn’t sure how long she’d been yelling at him but it felt like forever and when the princess was in a bad mood... well, forever felt like an eternity. Which was something he’d quite like to spend with her, but he wasn’t going to say that to her while she was yelling at him.
“I know.” He could tell by the cell he was in.
“We’re now practically alone, in a grounder prison,” she snapped. “We’re going to die and it’s because you couldn’t trust the grounders for a single second!”
“Because they were trying to kill you!” he shouted into the cell next to his. “I’m not going to trust people who think the right option is to murder the other party’s diplomat. No way. We’ll find another option.”
“They were a radical group,” she snapped. “But you betrayed the trust of the grounder leaders and now we’re never going to have peace.” She turned her back.
“I was the one that got us these peace talks to begin with, or did you forget that in your explosion of indignant fury?” he snarled through the bars at her. “I got us this and yeah, fine, I took it away too but I’d rather go to war than watch you die!”
She spun around, staring at him for a moment, her blue eyes icy, then she took a breath and he watched as a wave of calm washed over her. The dangerous kind. “You’re putting your own feelings above what’s right for our people,” she said. “Kissing you was a mistake. Sleeping with you was a mistake. I don’t feel that way towards you, Bellamy, I was just wrapped up in the heat of the moment. Saving me was a mistake. We’re not like that.”
His heart fell out of his stomach and rolled along the floor, or at least it felt that way, even though he knew she was lying through her teeth. “You’re lying because you think somehow in that...” He wanted to insult her but he couldn’t quite make himself do it. “You think it’ll help,” he said. “But it won’t. It won’t change what happened here and it won’t make you feel better.”
She looked away. “Bellamy.”
“No.” He held a hand up towards her and turned away too. “You don’t get to do this to me, Clarke.”
“I do.” She looked back at him. “It doesn’t matter whether you agree with what I’m saying, all that matters is that you listen: whatever you think we had is over now. You were there and you were... easy. I needed comfort and you gave me that, but you read too much into it and I--” She broke off when he struck the wall, his fist bleeding and bits of stone crumbling. “Mature.”
He looked around at her, eyes flashing. “You’re angry with me, I get it,” he snapped. “But this is cruel and you know it.”
“I’m telling you how I feel,” she said. “That’s all.”
“Fine, you wanna know how I feel?” He strode towards her, blood dripping from his fist. “I’ll tell you how I feel! I--”
“Bellamy!”
He broke off and glared at her. “What?”
“Look.” She gestured at the hole he’d punched in the wall and he looked around, blinking a few times as he realised there was a literal hole in it, leading to the outside world, to freedom.
He tensed his jaw and nodded. “Let’s go then,” he said.
She rested her hands on the bars between them. “You go,” she said. “You can... get help, bring them back for me. You can make sure the others made it home like they said they could.”
He looked around at her and he wanted to say he wasn’t leaving her here, but what if she was right? What if he was putting his feelings above what was logically a good idea? He needed to warn the others that the peace talks had failed, that they’d be coming for them, that war was about to start again, and if Octavia and Lincoln and Chancellor Griffin hadn’t made it home... he needed to bring people to get them. “I’ll be back for you.”
“Do what’s best for the camp,” she said and leant her head against the bars. She was already coming down from her anger, he could tell the hole in the wall had given her hope for him, cooled her down and warmed her back up. He knew she hadn’t meant what she said, even if she didn’t realise it yet.
“I’ll be back,” he repeated, pushing at the bricks until the hole got bigger, big enough for him to make it through. He paused, looking around, checking to make sure there was no way to get her to him, then he looked back at her.
She met his eyes. “Go.”
He swallowed, nodded and ducked out through the hole.
He took her back to his tent and it surprised her for amoment because she’d actually dreamt of this, dreamt of being taken to his tent when she got home instead of being forced to sleep alone.
“Here…” He was treating her like she’d break, like she was one of the rare china dolls people collected on the ark.
“I’m fine, Bellamy,” she said and she didn’t want to shy away from his touch but she did anyway and she felt him falter. It was Bellamy, and he’d never hurt her. Even when he’d hated her he’d never hurt her. He’d avoided it. Protected her, even.
And here she was flinching away from him.
She could tell she’d hurt him from the way his face fell and how quickly he tried to cover up how he felt, so she took a breath and fished a few bottles from his jacket. “Get a cloth and some water,” she said and he was moving instantly, finding what she’d asked for as she sat down on the bed and put the bottles down.
“Here.” He held it out to her and she took a breath, her heart aching for him from the fact he thought she wanted to use it herself and hadn’t assumed she’d want help like he would have once before, months before this.
She shook her head, suppressing a wince as she gently peeled off his jacket and placed it beside her, then she stretched out on her front on his bed, exposing her back to his eyes.
She heard his sharp intake of breath, the sound of his horror at the damage done to her back, and closed her eyes. She hadn’t seen it, only felt it, and she couldn’t imagine how it looked. “There’s a red bottle, round,” she said. “Put some of the liquid on the cloth and apply it to the wounds.”
“Will it hurt?” She could hear the ointment dripping as he put it on the cloth and she licked her lips, not wanting to lie.
“Yeah, but it’ll clean the wounds, help them to heal,” she said.
“Are they going to scar?”
“Yeah.” She closed her eyes, tucking her face into his pillow, the one made of leather that always smelled like his hair. They all used the same soap, the same handmade shampoo, but his hair never smelled like anyone else’s. It just smelled like him.
“Can we do anything to stop that?” he said.
She’d never been an insecure girl. She’d never been the type to primp in front of the mirror or spend hours on her appearance just to feel like she deserved a second look across the canteen or Wells’ attention, but her heart beat a little faster and her stomach did flips at the thought of Bellamy being turned off by the scars on her back. “No.”
“I’m sorry,” he murmured and gently pressed the cloth to her back.
She wanted to scream so she did. She buried her face in the pillow and shrieked at the top of her lungs. He faltered, his hand stilling against her back, and she knew he thought he’d caused her wounds pain, but all he’d done was hurt her heart.
“Sorry,” he breathed again and she made a miserable noise into the pillow.
“It doesn’t hurt that bad,” she said and before he could question it she snapped, “I’m not made of china! You don’t have to be so... so...” She didn’t have a word for it but he was being wrong, he was being wrong with her and she couldn’t take it. “It’s not like you to be so--”
“Gentle?”
Her heart did a flip in her chest. “No, I didn’t mean...”
She heard his tongue swipe across his lips in the silence, the slightly wet sound of skin against skin. She missed his lips against hers. “I’ve always been gentle with Octavia.” The cloth met her back again and she dug her nails into the bed in surprise and pain, closing her eyes tight. “We’ve had our fights but I’ve never hurt her deliberately.”
“I know that,” she said.
“Clarke.”
“Yeah?”
“Let me finish.”
She swallowed hard and nodded, resting her head on the pillow, unable to turn and look at him while he was working on her back for her.
“It’s important to me, it always has been,” he said. “My mom used to tell me something that stuck with me...”
She took a breath. He’d rarely mentioned his mother, even in their quiet moments. He’d told her once that she’d chosen to have Octavia rather than end the pregnancy out of love for him, that she told him once she couldn’t imagine not having Octavia because she couldn’t imagine not having Bellamy. He’d said that was one of the reasons he felt so responsible for Octavia: it was because of him that she had to live - be that a good thing or a bad thing.
She was almost asleep when he’d told her that. She wasn’t sure he’d actually thought she was awake.
“You don’t have to tell me this,” she tried.
“Clarke.”
“Okay, sorry.” She couldn’t help smiling, just a little. It was so stupid, her lying with no back to her shirt, him tending to whip wounds and rambling about his mother, her resisting the urge to whine like a disobedient child and him just repeating her name over and over to make her shut up and listen. “But you really don’t--”
“Clarke.”
“Okay.” She bit her lower lip and went quiet this time, just listening.
“She told me there are two types of people who deserve gentle,” he murmured. “Two types of people in the world you should never hurt: children and those you love.”
She smiled to herself. She could see little Bellamy looking at even littler Octavia and loving her so much he’d swear to never hurt her. “I like that.”
“Me too.”
“Octavia is really lucky to have you, you know,” she said and she could hear his facial expression of amusement and she wasn’t sure what she’d missed. “I’m not gentle with you because I think you’re going to break if I step wrong, Clarke.”
She paused.
Oh.
Oh.
She smiled.
Oh.
“Oh.”
He chuckled under his breath. “Yeah, you heard me.” His fingers slipped down to her lower back, applying ointment to her wounds. “You need stitches. I can do it?”
“Please.” She swallowed and smiled into his pillow.
When he started suturing her wounds she grit her teeth, nails causing tiny holes in the blankets on his bed and voice letting out tiny little noises of pain. “Ah...”
“Sorry,” he breathed.
“You didn’t do this,” she said, closing her eyes tight. “You made it better.”
She could hear the smallest smile in his voice. “I did?”
“You did,” she murmured. “I dreamt about you... it kept me sane.”
“Did you know I’d come for you?” he asked.
She held her breath, but decided on honesty. “No.”
His hands faltered on her back.
“I hoped you wouldn’t,” she said. “I didn’t think it’d be safe and I didn’t want you to get yourself hurt, or anyone else. I thought you’d be smart enough to know better.” She let her voice edge just into the realm of teasing and smiled a little as she said, “I’m glad you didn’t.”
He went back to stitching her up. “Me too.”
She fell silent, relaxing into his pillow despite the pain in her back, then after a few moments asked, “Did you come for me because you... feel that way?”
“No,” he said. She wondered if he was lying. “I came for you because we need you. That was... secondary, although it would have been reason enough if I hadn’t had the other reason.”
She nodded and went quiet again, closing her eyes and drifting as he sewed.
“There,” he said after what felt like forever. “Anything else to put on there?”
“Not tonight,” she said.
“All right.” He moved away to clean the cloth and she sat up, not quite leaving his bed and turning to look at him, to watch him rinse it in his wash stand.
Her eyes traced the shape of his back, the curve of his muscles under his clothes and the way the cloth hung off his frame. “You’ve lost weight.”
“So have you,” was all he said.
“You’ve lost a lot of weight,” she said.
“So have you.”
She pursed her lips and turned her head, looking away across the room. “Octavia okay?”
“She’s fine,” he said.
“So now I’m back you can start eating again?”
He stopped moving and took a breath, a low chuckle escaping, then he turned around, drying his hands on a cloth. “So can you.”
“I wasn’t starving myself by choice,” she said.
“Mine wasn’t by choice either,” he said. “It’s been rough. No food.”
“Finn is practically chubby,” she accused.
His lips quirked, but his eyes darkened just a little. “Been looking at Finn, have you?”
She met his eyes with hers. “Yes,” she said. “But not like that.”
He nodded, looking away, and she stood up, stepping towards him. “Bellamy.”
He didn’t move, but his body stiffened like he was scared of her. Scared of hurting her. “You should rest,” he said and once he’d spoken, once she was close enough to touch, he moved past her and away.
“You should too,” she said, following him with her gaze. “It’s your bed...”
“I’ll...” He shook his head, scratched the back of his neck. “I’ll find somewhere else to sleep.”
“Maybe you can bunk in with Murphy.”
He paused and looked around at her, humour dancing in his eyes. “Things haven’t changed that much since you’ve been gone.”
“Glad to hear that at least.” She looked at his bed and so did he, then she looked back at him. “Stay with me.” It was almost an order, but not quite.
He took a breath. “I could hurt you.” He gestured at her back. “I don’t---”
She stepped towards him. “You’re not going to hurt me,” she said. “But I’m not sleeping in your bed without you and it’s been six months since anyone slept in my bed so it’s probably dam---” She trailed off, tilting her head at the expression crossing his face. “You’ve been sleeping in my bed.”
He offered her the cutest little shrug she’d ever seen on him. “It... I couldn’t sleep anywhere else.”
She smiled a little. “Well... What’s the point sleeping in my bed, when you can have the real thing?”
“The real bed?”
“Bellamy.”
He coughed just a little and lowered his head, nodding. “I’ll keep to my side.”
She stared at him. “I can honestly say I’d rather you didn’t.” She turned, striding over to his bed and climbing onto it. Her back was throbbing but she was determined to not show any pain as she lay on her back. “See? I’m fine.”
“Now you’re just being... ridiculous.” He followed her over though. “That’s gotta hurt.”
She grit her teeth. “It does, but sadly I have nothing else to lie on but my back.”
He paused and eyed her. “...you want to lie on me, don’t you.”
“Yes I do.” She sat up and shuffled across the bed to make room for him. “I just want you to go back to normal with me.”
He nodded, moving across and laying down on his back, his entire body one long line of tension.
She crawled on top of him and lay her skinny body down on his. His bones poked into her own, just a little, and she’d known he’d lost weight from when she looked at him but now it was more obvious and it hurt her soul, not just her body. She rested her ear over his heart and closed her eyes. “Relax.”
“It’ll hurt,” she said, “but I’d like it if you held me.”
He swallowed and gently draped his arms around her, not really touching her.
“Properly.” It was almost a snap although not quite, but it worked like an order and his arms instantly tightened around her. She let out a little breath and closed her eyes. “Thank you.”
He nodded and she tilted her face up, looking at his. “What?” he grunted, watching the canvas above their heads.
“Are we going to be okay?” she said and swallowed. “Can we get back there? To where we were before? I said things...”
“You were angry,” he said. “I was too.”
“You didn’t answer me,” she said, holding her breath.
He kissed her hair, chapped lips catching in it. “We’ll get back there,” he said. “I promise.”
She smiled just a little, settling down on him, and he relaxed too after a few minutes, his breathing evening out and what seemed to be a peaceful sleep claiming him.
She tilted her head and looked at his face. “I love you too.”
His eyes opened a crack and met hers, a tiny smile creasing his lips. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She curled just a little closer to him.
He smiled, tucking her close, and shut his eyes. “We’ll be okay.”
“I know,” she said softly and buried her face to sleep.
