A short story depicting a scene when maybe Mary and Elizabeth Tudor decided where they stood with each other over a simple lunch. Please read, enjoy and let me know what you think. I enjoy little imaginary scenes like this. Happy Weekend. Wanstead, Essex — August, 1553 The canvas walls of the private pavilion at Wanstead breathed heat. It was not the honest warmth of open sunlight or the clean exertion of riding beneath the wide Essex sky. This heat was closer, more oppressive, while the heavy canvas trapped too many living bodies inside a space strained with excitement, fear, and triumph. The air hung thick with melted beeswax smoke, horse sweat, damp velvet, crushed summer grass, and the fine dust that drifted endlessly from thousands of hooves grinding the old Roman road toward Aldgate. Outside, England shouted itself hoarse for its new queen. The roar of the crowds rose and fell like surf against the tent walls while parish bells pealed somewhere beyond the fields and heraldic trumpets answered in bright metallic bursts. Men called loudly for ale. Horses stamped and tossed their heads in the growing press of bodies. Along the road to London, polished armor flashed beneath the lowering afternoon sun beside snapping banners, silver harness, and the restless movement of twelve thousand souls surging steadily toward the capital, all eager to witness the return of the rightful Tudor bloodline. Inside the pavilion, however, a heavy, suffocating silence held. With her gloved hand on the polished table, Mary I of England steeled herself before taking a seat. The heavy, stiff purple velvet of her state gown dragged at her shoulders. The thick gold embroidery stitched densely along her bodice seemed to trap the day’s heat inside the fabric itself, offering no relief. Ropes of fine seed pearls looped across her breast in solemn, heavy rows, while large rubies glimmered darkly from the conservative French hood that pressed painfully against her temples. Even the thick ermine lining at her wide, hanging sleeves felt like an oppressive weight now.

Hi All, I am a writer on literotica. And I have my own private collection of erotica as I love creative writing for the sake of writing. I write both western and Indian style. I also love the Secondlife Metaverse. DM me for anything.

Greetings, fellow world-builders. I'm Henry Mustafa — known in my circles as The Ultratio, founder of the D.I.M. Multiverse Network. I've been building a fully realized science fiction universe for years, and I joined WriteMare because this feels like the right place to connect with others who understand what it takes to build something from the ground up. What started as a novel has expanded into something much larger: 🎬 A 4K AI-assisted feature film — The Birth of A New Civilization — in three cuts (Action, Novelistic, Festival). Official Selection at LiftOff International Film Festival 2025, and one of the first AI-assisted films to receive official U.S. copyright approval. 📚 An IAP-cited novel entering libraries nationwide — the source code of a 48-universe saga. 📻 A 24/7 radio station with 114 original tracks and 12 genres — music that actually exists within the multiverse. 📺 A continuous playback TV channel (DIMTV) featuring multiverse content. 🎵 A 2,100+ track sync-ready music catalog, 100% owned, ASCAP-registered. 🎰 A blockchain-integrated casino that somehow fits the lore — provably fair, zero wallet friction, built for accessibility. Everything is 100% owned. Everything is live. Everything was built without investors — just vision and execution. You can explore the full network here: 👉 http://dimedia.online I'm here to connect, share ideas, and learn from other writers. If anyone wants to talk world-building, independent production, or how AI fits into creative work — I'm all ears. Looking forward to exploring this universe with you. With gravity and will, Henry Mustafa | The Ultratio Office of the Ultratio Universal Galactic Supreme Council 📧 [email protected] 🌌 48 Multiverses • 100% Owned • Sovereign IP Holla Holla 👊