Welcome (back) everyone!
My name is Zara/Sanja, and I'm here to be your host once again. Don't hesitate to DM me, or we can exchange number to talk via some other type of communication app

For those joining us the first time around, you're about to step into the historical fiction version of Tudors court. This time, it's not a full contest: we will have 2 rounds to wrap up some storylines and go get a bit of closure. To prepare you, this contest will take place over the course of 3 months (April, May & June). Also, if you're into historical accuracy, go back now. We are not doing that.

Round 1: Infants of Spring
The year is 1533, we're stepping right into where we left off - and the situation is entertaining, to say the least! Let's do a little recap, shall we?

England has stepped into the new age - Reformation is happening, the King is now the head of the church and his first decision was granting himself the permission to divorce his wife Katherine of Aragon, and get a new one, Anne Boleyn. 
The new queen is well-spoken in several languages, well-educated, entertaining, gracious with singing and dancing, quite good at political matters and a true reformist - she is a force to be reckoned with...much like her predecessor, the only difference is the King made her the object of his attention & his desire to impregnate with a male heir. 

The tides are changing - otherwise strong Spanish public is now listed as persona non grata, and the French are making a comeback (no puns intended here), for the new Queen has spent a great deal of life on the French court. There are new players coming, some of the old ones have decided to call it a year and retire to a safer environment, but altogether this looks like an amusing season ahead.

New ladies are coming into what seems to be an enlightened court, a proper balance between religious and the delicious sins of the flesh, and the ones still here get to enjoy this new change of air coming it. Or suffocate, depending on how you handle this sudden departure from what used to be.

Which one are you?
Well, for starters, you'll all be ladies-in-waiting for the new Queen. The duties of ladies-in-waiting were to act as companions in public and in private; to accompany the Queen wherever she goes. You'll be here to entertain her with music, dance or singing - Anne is a great patron of art and music, so you will be most welcome to practice either of these talents should you possess any. 

The Queen will expect you to read the new English Bible, attend the mass on Sundays and live with the spirit of reform. Fashion, intelligence and languages are encouraged, as is good manners and not disgracing yourself or, even worse, your family while attending the court.
You will serve the Queen, but you shall respond directly to Lady Avis who is to determine your day-to-day duties since the Queen certainly has better things to do. 

We'll begin on April 1st: returning characters are preparing for the arrival of the new, new ones are coming in.
On April 2nd, new ladies will present themselves at court to the Queen and later that evening, a ball is to be held for all the new young people at the court - everyone is in attendance, and both King & Queen will be displaying their happiness and love for each other throughout the evening,

From early morning April 5th to late evening of April 7th, you will be asked to attend the hunt: usually, the King retired to hunt with his men alone, but this is no longer the case. You will embark on a three-day adventure, sleep in large tents and be able to either indulge in walks, observe the hunt or simply enjoy the moment at the campsight.

Things will slow down for a while after, you'll be able to relax until a wedding is announced: Lady Eleanor (Schogo) is to be wed to Lord William on the April 18th. Hopefully, you've made friends by that point, since you'll have much more fun dancing and having fun while in good company (every one of the paper people will be there). Those with a keen sense of others might notice the moments of jealousy sparking between the King and (now confirmed) pregnant Queen, but you're advised not to mention it: keep your eyes open, and your lips tight.

On April 27th, you'll all attend a lavish mascarade party - the perfect occasion for your best dress and your most bold behaviour: after all, no one knows who's hiding behind which mask.

New Characters

Welcome to the Tudor court! This is your first season here, so make sure to be careful with your affections, smart with your alliances and don't forget to have fun.
You will arrive on the eve of April 1st and escorted to your rooms, instructed to get a good rest, for tomorrow you'll meet the Queen.

Please fill out the form below.
Name (keep in mind about the proper title & ask when in doubt)
Age (please make it 18 or more)
Face claim
Personality traits (please, keep a healthy balance between virtues and flaws)
Interests (up to 3, which will be written in the form of the first impression upon your arrival to the court)
Let me know if you'll attend the wedding (but let me add you are encouraged to do so)
Story (tell me about your arrival, the mascarade and other events you want to include - keep in mind you need to interact with interest in order to get impressions)
Outfit (show me your mascarade outfit, and if in attendance, the wedding one)

Returning Characters

Happy to see you here! I have nothing special to explain to you, some of the things will be added into your personal plots. Have fun!
Please start with April 2nd, if you can.

Please fill out the form below.
Name 
Age 
Face claim
Relationships (please list your vision of the meaningful or impactful relationships you've formed over the last season)
Interests (up to 3, which will be written in the form of the first impression if a new character is chosen, or continuation if you're sticking with your choices)
Let me know if you'll attend the wedding (but let me add you are encouraged to do so)
Story (tell me about your arrival, the mascarade and other events you want to include - keep in mind you need to interact with interest in order to get impressions)
Outfit (show me your mascarade outfit, and if in attendance, the wedding one)

A bit more from the host.
Try to keep in mind my characters' personalities, traits, etc. When in doubt, please ask.
I need to see some stories, some interactions - this is a game of throwing feedback back and forth.
Keep in mind we're in 1553, whatever that might mean to you. 
And, again - when in doubt: ask!

Contest dynamic
Round 1 ends Sunday, 13 December 2020, evening forum time.
Round 2 ends Friday, 18 December 2020, evening forum time.

EDIT: Update - since there will most likely be no more than 5 of us, we can bump interest list to 4 people each.

Last edited by Zaralee (08/12/2020 at 18:32)

King Henry VIII Tudor
FC: Johnathan Rhys Meyers
Age: 35

Relationships

Anne Boleyn, former lover, now wife, he believes her to be the love of his life; he recognizes his own ambition in her, he loves her ideas and most of all, he enjoys her company in bed and the throne room.
Katherine of Aragon, former spouse, strained relationship; he still has a love for her, but he is generally annoyed with her inability to let him go.
Princess Mary, daughter, he loves her dearly.
Sir Frances, one of the closest people to him, friend, confidant, someone he truly trusts with his life.
George Boleyn, brother-in-law, friend, kindred spirit; from time to time, Henry wishes he could have George's life and options.
Lady Colette, former paramour, although he has never offered her an official status; he enjoyed her company and her honest communication.

The beloved ruler, ambitious, proud – Henry has been the golden prince of England and later on the charismatic king of insatiable taste. He is charming, sharp on words and knows what he wants – he also won’t stop until he gets it. One of the most powerful people in the world is still lacking one thing: a male heir to the throne – the only thing missing in the picture-perfect life. Henry finally decided to act on the growing fears about the heir, deciding to push aside his marriage to Katherine, thus Spain, in favour of his most recent romance to Anne Boleyn. The king seems to be head-over-heels for his new, young wife and everything she does, says or touches is pure gold in his eyes. Henry's fickle nature and undeniable ego seem like the only potential issues that might arise, but this is a problem everyone around him worries about - everyone but him.


Queen Anne Boleyn
FC: Natalie Dormer
Age: 27

Relationships

Henry, her husband, her lover, her desire - she loves him dearly and loves his mind and body alike, feels he is her ambition personified.
Katherine of Aragon, whom Anne tries not to mention, ever; she holds no particular feelings for the former queen, but dislikes that the common people still love her.
Princess Mary, another part of the past Anne is neutral about, although she is not stupid and realizes Mary will stop being a threat the second she bears an heir.
George & Mary Boleyn, siblings, they share a tight bond, tighter than most, probably even more so since they have been separated in their later years.
Sir Francis Bryan, cousin and friend, she enjoys his company and the amount of information he has; Anne likes spending time with Francis.
Lord Louis, close friend, political ally and someone whose company she enjoys.
Lord Philippe & Avis, both considered allies from the French court.

Witty, educated and well-read, Anne has returned to the English court after years of living at the French court to become a Queen in possibly the shortest time ever, considering the king was married when she got there. Anne speaks several languages, takes pleasure in debates, riding and music. She is charismatic and magnetic while trying not to stand out too much. She is kind in her words and actions, always seems to be in a good mood and tries to keep the cheers up for the entire court around her. She is ambitious and intelligent, which has already proven to be a dangerous combination, and with her talent for diplomacy and state-related issues, she is pushing for a more equal place than the former queen used to enjoy in the last decade of her reign. 


Lord Philippe Louis de Vassinhac d'Imécourt, 5th Lord of the Marquisate of Imécourt and Peer of France
FC: Colin O’Donoghue 
Age: 22

Relationships

Anne Boleyn, friend, he believes and acts accordingly; he likes Anne's wit and finds her a proper fit for a queen.
Lord Louis, part of the extended family in a way; they don't always see eye to eye, but Philippe is not stupid to reject a powerful ally.
Lady Catalina (Chay), another potential affair which resulted in an unlikely ally - Spanish girl is (yet another) undesirable company, yet he finds her very amusing.
Lord Maximillian, a potential friend and a great company - they share interests and Philippe enjoys his company a great deal.

Philippe used to be the new member of the Privy Chamber, a young man chosen to serve the king, and is now one of the most favourite parts of the company - and how could he not be? He is a charming man, great with words and experienced when it comes to women. Godchild to King Francis I of France, Philippe has grown with the best tutors and the best the money can buy. He was sent to Belgium at the young age to spend his childhood there, before returning to Callais when his godfather decided to send him to Henry’s court, as a sign of friendship and good diplomacy between two kings - and he certainly used the time to find himself a good place there. In a year, he made the wise call to become friends with Anne Boleyn and gather various good marriage options, which he is still reluctant to make. Philippe has been at a court his entire life, he is savvy with all things related - that's why he's hesitant on letting the free living go. He is a talented jouster, loves to ride out to hunt and enjoys summer celebrations. Normally, politics mattered very little to him, but he realized his charms might as well get him far if he's willing to act on the things he possesses: charisma, information and savvy ways he handles politics. 


Lady Isabella Anna Gascoyne, daughter of Duke of Bedford
FC: Alice Isaaz
Age: 19

Relationships

Lady Cressida, younger sister, one of the best friends and only confidant she had growing up, Isabella is over the moon about Cressida's arrival to the court.
Prince Mathias, soon-to-be betrothed of hers despite not truly knowing him beyond the few conversations they've had.
Lady Eleanor (Schogo) and Lady Catalina (Chay) are the closest to Isabella in the court, she considers both to be confidants and friends.

Isabella is the oldest of three girls Duchess of Bedford gave birth to before she passed away. She delusions herself with nothing – romance nor riches – she is loyal, kind, calm and collected. Usually what people notice about her is her enchanting presence – she turns heads wherever she goes – and write her off as a pretty face. Isabella is the opposite: observing and silent nature has given her insight into many things, but she always loves to keep her knowledge to herself, saying that loose lips sink ships. Overprotected her whole life, coming to the court has been a dream come true to the girl: the lessons she learnt felt like a nightmare at times, tho. Her first love happened quickly and ended so abruptly when sweating sickness killed Fernando, leaving Isabella with this new-found pain she didn't expect. To top it all, there are rumours about her soon-to-be-announced marriage to the young Bohemian prince she doesn't really know, and the only light she might see heading forward is the arrival of her sister.


Doña Blanca Fernandez de Cordoba and Ayala, 4th Duchess of Feria
FC: Alba Galocha
Age: 21

Relationships

Former queen, Katherine of Aragon, remains a close friend and confidant, secret ally and someone Blanca both admires and disapproves for giving up easily.
Lady Colette (Bambi), who is considered a friend of Blanca, and a person of trust.
Lady Lucrezia (Jadis), a friend she trusts completely in the court, one of the few.

Passionate is the word you might use to describe the Duchess of Feria. Widowed at the young age of 19, she stands to a great fortune and many lands, yet she decided to come to the English court to stand service to her cousin, Katherine of Aragon. The young woman is savvy with court matters, manages her household and makes sure she does not spend her riches without a good purpose. She is keen on travelling, wields a sword and rides a horse better than many men, enjoys hunting and nature in general. Her past year has proven to be far more eventful than she had hoped for and she found herself somewhat disappointed in the woman she once believed was a role model of hers. Still, Blanca remains a force of nature: she is not giving up without a fight - the attempts to marry her (and her lands) to England have failed so far, but she is aware she will have to marry soon should she decide to keep the lands and her independence from England.


Sir John Morgan
FC: Ruairi O’Connor
Age: 19

Relationships

Lord William, best friend for a long time, although John feels they are growing distant lately, with John's engagement and his personal restlessness not matching
Lady Vittoria (Hhgurl, would-be flirt, possible friend, John began to discover new layers to the girl he believed to be a spoilt child, he's curious to learn more.
Lady Colette (Bambi) surprising friendship in the making in his eyes, he enjoys her wit and company alike.
Lord Maximillian, another friend in the making, a sustainable friendship in John's opinion.

A young and talented poet, John gained his title from Henry himself as he enjoyed his poems immensely. He is flirtatious, can charm just about anyone and loves the amorous exchanges he usually has with women. He loves secrets, finding them out and keeping them, he has an ability to make people feel close to him to be able to open up and enjoys little manipulations he can do. He is friends with Will, growing up around the same places and the same people - a peculiar friendship based on a loyalty he is now realizing he can put to more people. A season at the court changed John, giving him a new perspective and letting him learn on his mistakes, figuring out which ones he would have done again if possible. He might want to deny it, but he grew ambitious lately and is starting to consider what future holds for him: marriage, a wealthy patron or something else entirely.


Lord William Fairfax, Baron of Steeton
FC: Mark Ryder
Age: 19

Relationships

Sir John, best and loyal friend who seems to be growing a bit distant lately, which is not a burden on Will's mind at the time.
Lady Eleanor (Schogo), future wife, the girl he is in love with utterly.
Lord Robert, friend and a person of trust for William, someone he wishes he had known earlier in life.

A valiant knight Will grew up reading and listening to the stories of Camelot, so his wish has always been to live the life of chivalrous knight: brave, kind, proud, loyal and worthy of his title. Youngest of the four sons, he has hopes of making a good, wealthy marriage for himself and only believes his rough manners might stop him from making a good impression. He loves to keep moving, sitting still bores him immensely and he tends to get grumpy when he needs to sit still. He enjoys jousting and hunting but has no taste for the celebrations, usually showing up for a little while with John, before vanishing into solitude. His ranks grew in this past year, a title was given to the young man, but more importantly (to him), Will found a woman he wishes to leave the court with, and he found this new energy that drives him forward.


Crown Prince Otto of Andechs, Count of Burgundy and Duke of Merania
FC: Jacob Collins-Levy
Age: 21

Relationships

Lord Magnus, ally and possibly friend, someone Otto shares a lot with, and whose company he finds intellectually stimulating. 
Lady Lucrezia (Jadis), started as a potential friendship, but he realized at a point his feelings might have been developing into something more. 
Lady Catalina (Chay), a friend in his point of view, but he realized a bit too late the girl had other intentions in mind, which he feels a bit guilty about.
Lady Eleanor (Schogo), a friend, someone whose company he enjoys, the girl is calming to him.
Lord Leopold, an acquaintance from their days on his own court, and someone he looks forward to seeing.

Young Bavarian duke Otto serves as an ambassador of his country at the Tudor court. His brother, Johann, is bound to inherit the throne of the country, making his position at the court a very strong one. He is an educated, silent man with a strong presence and a cold personality. He’s not the one you would invite to a party, but should you need help in a matter of law, he is the man to call. Otto is not an unkind man, but his own upbringing and overly cautious personality prevent him from being a more social person and a more desirable husband in the eyes of any romantic soul. The year has brought him more of a personal gain than diplomatic results: he stood on the sidelines of the playground, watching things escalate between England, Spain and France due to Anne Boleyn. While chaos ruled there, his personal life seemed quite straightforward: he found and eventually surrounded himself with people he found interesting, challenging and the ones he likes spending time with.


Sir Francis Bryan, Earl of Surrey
FC: Joshua Sosse
Age: 32

Relationships

King Henry, friend and confidant, with Francis seeing clearly that Henry has no real friends and what is happening can simply change if the king decides to do so.
Queen Anne, cousin, a close friend; he believes her to be far too openly ambitious and worries about how it might look for all of them.
Lord George, cousin, friend and Francis find him a silly, spoilt boy who needs to think a couple steps forwards, just like his sister.
Lady Collette (Bambi), the most entertaining woman he met in recent years, he enjoys her company a great deal.

Frances is a close friend of Henry and Anne, which might just be the only reason his behaviour is tolerated at court. He’s intelligent, has a keen sense of diplomacy and legal matters, he enjoys a great deal of trust with the king. He loves to enjoy life, as he calls it, which implies drinking, celebrations, gambling and many sexual amusements he has been enjoying at both courts. He has a great sense of humour, he’s very observant and charismatic, dangerous combination given he’s pleasant to look at and holds a strong position. He’s been widowed almost two years, childless and waiting for a good moment to marry above his rank and indulge in the fine life. He found himself, strangely, surrounded by big players and his natural ability to assume a grand role proved valuable as he became part of every important circle there is - not without a cost: he sacrificed his eye for the king, at a tournament.


Lord Maximillian von In der Maur auf Strelburg und zu Freifeld, Burgomeister of Berneck and Freiherr von In der Maur
FC: Max Irons
Age: 21

Relationships

Lord John, a friend in the making, he believes, but there is something trustworthy about John despite his usual reputation.
Lord Philippe, potential friend and someone with plenty of shared interests, and believes to be a worthy companion.
Lady Collette (Bambi), a more recent affair which might as well be a good potential match in his eyes, or friendship in the making, depending on how things develop from his point of view.

Descending from the powerful nobility of Bavaria and Holy Roman Empire, Maximillian has decided a season on the Tudor court would serve him well - and it really did, in his opinion. He’s arrogant and charming, aware of his power and not afraid to flaunt it, but deep down his intentions are not bad. He is, however, still very full of himself, smug and tends to crave the spotlight in the room. He is the third son of the family, able to pave his own way, but very much unburdened with the family titles and commitments which come with it. His year was somewhat blurred out between wine, women and indulgence, but he sees nothing wrong with simply enjoying things as they are while he's young. He believes he will make connections meaningful enough to strike a good match when the time comes.


Lord Robert Carr, Earl of Dorset
FC: Aaron Cobham
Age: 21

Relationships

Lord William, who seems like a friend-to-be, someone Robert believes shares his values in life.

Child of a wealthy foreign merchant and a noblewoman of one of the oldest English families who have eloped and got shunned by her family, Robert did not believe he was made for a life of nobility. Things changed once his uncle, previous Earl, was beheaded for treason and given how his mother Lady Mary has been a good friend of the king, the title was carried to him. Life has changed in an instance and Robert had to adjust to a whole new life. He is humble and modest, with a rational mind and clear goals in life, sometimes too honest and often too trusting. He loves nature and looks forward to marriage and an opportunity to bring his family home to the old fame his mother used to talk about. His year in the court has proved him he has a stomach for the ploys and games, after all, but he is still unlikely to partake in any. He wishes this is the last season of his and wishes to get out of it with a decent marriage to continue his family name and not let the wealth go to waste.


Lord Mathias of House of Habsburg, prince of Bohemia
FC: Alexander Dreymon
Age: 22

Relationships

Lord Magnus, a natural ally and even potential mentor, at least from Mathias' perspective; he likes the man.
Lady Isabella, potentially future wife, which really isn't something he looks forward to; he likes the girl, but he feels the girl does not share his ideas nor ideals.
Lord Otto, another kindred spirit, he finds his company pleasant and doesn't mind it.

Despite coming from a powerful lineage of House of Habsburg, Holy Roman Church and being the prince of Bohemia, Mathias is not really a defender of the faith: a strong believer in the Reform and division from the Pope, he is one of the most outspoken nobles when it comes to matters of religion. Being the third in the line of succession to the throne, Mathias hopes to have a good match arranged for him, preferably in one of the Protestant countries - so far, he doesn't think he found such a match. He is somewhat cold and distant but can be a pleasant person once you break through the first layer. He loves nature, riding and normally prefers to spend his winters back home, but given the situation with the Reform and Henry, he knew he had to come and support the cause - he is happy to be here.


Lord Magnus Erickson Vasa, crown prince of Sweden
FC: Nikolaj Costeau Waldu
Age: 31

Relationships

Lord Otto, potential friend and the pleasant company he truly enjoys at the court, which came as somewhat of a surprise.
Lord Mathias, a natural ally and still idealistic young man, Magnus believes Mathias is going to be a great man should he choose to do so.
Lady Lucrezia (Jadis), a surprise he did not see coming, a very intelligent young woman with the courage to speak her mind.
Lady Avis, they were both at the Swedish court in their youth, he has fond memories of Avis.

Crown Prince of Sweden, from the powerful house of Vasa, is the brother to the most celebrated king in history. Often overlooked, Magnus learned that life in the shadow can be somewhat cold, but it also allows you to escape the tedious things. A strong believer in the Reform of religion, Magnus has become known in his court as the Protestant Prince – negotiating the change in religion with the least amount of violence. He’s a beloved figure in Sweden, has a kind heart and diplomatic mind. He’s very good on social occasions but tends to avoid them. Magnus is not a violent man, but violence is something he grew up to be good with, with a reputation of being an excellent warrior and was one of the people who stood up with his brother after the excommunication by the Pope. He enjoys his time at the Tudor court and even though he is restless to move on, he doesn't mind staying there for a bit more.


Lord George Boleyn, 2nd Viscount Rochford
FC: Edward Holcroft
Age: 28

Relationships

Queen Anne, sister, queen, confidant, best friend - they share a close bond, and he always admired his sister and the way her mind works.
Lord Francis, cousin and friend, he never really thought greatly about Francis, but usually plays along with everyone when it comes to singing his praises.
King Henry, a new family, he enjoys his company and the influence that comes with being the brother of a queen.

Brother to Lady Anne Boleyn, George is all that a young man climbing ranks should be: handsome, charming, well-spoken, flirtatious, full of energy and very good with all things court. He’s the oldest child in the family, but he’s not worried about the titles, the procedures and such – he is set to live out his best life instead of worrying about the future. He’s entertaining and loves to attend all kinds of celebrations, speaks several languages and has served three kings as part of their Privy Chamber – Bavarian court, French court and right now, English one. He is very close to both his sisters, but he shares more traits with Anne and feels naturally closer to her. George enjoys art and poetry, nature and good amusement, but don’t let this fool you: he is always aware of things around him.


Lord Louis Charles de France, Duke of Orleans
FC: Alexander Vlahos
Age: 27

Relationships

Queen Anne, a close friend from her time spent at the court of France, he likes Anne and admires her a great deal.
Lord Philippe, a logical ally he likes to keep close and part of his extended family in a way, even if they do not see eye to eye, Louis thinks Philippe is a good man.
Lady Avis, an acquaintance from her time at the French court.

Brother to King Francis I, King of France, and a personal friend of Lady Anne Boleyn, Louis is all you might expect from a man in his position: well-spoken, patron to art and all things beautiful, skilful warrior and strategist, educated in all matters of court and diplomacy, and of course, the uttermost hedonist. Louis is known for his somewhat wild and unpredictable nature – he might seem soft on the first glance, but don’t let the looks fool you: he can be very cruel, harsh and unapologetic as one gets. He enjoys his lavish life and reputation he has at home, successfully avoiding all things he does not like for himself at this moment, including getting a high-power match. Louis is currently enjoying his time at the court and wishes to stick around for a while longer.


Lady Avis Courtenay, Dowager Duchess of Loamshire
FC: Gemma Chan
Age: 31

Relationships

Queen Anne, an acquaintance from the French court, and possible friend, in Avis' opinion.

Possibly the most elusive beautiful woman that has ever walked any court, Avis has always amused herself by remaining a mystery. Intelligent and well-spoken, she will rarely speak out of term but will demand respect almost instantly and effortlessly. She's kind, once you get to know her, yet not many have had the pleasure. The list of her connections is a long one, but the list of her friends is everything but. She takes pride in her skills of maintaining the lands at her position and aims to remain a widow for the remains of her life, letting the lands go to the crown after she passes. Avis is looking forward to joining the court at Queen's request, and experiencing the life at Tudor court under the Reform and with Anne as a queen.


Lady Cressida Gascoyne, daughter of Duke of Bedford
FC: Suki Waterhouse
Age: 18

Relationships

Lady Isabella, older sister, friend, closest confidant she ever had, Cressida missed her dearly.

Middle daughter of Duke of Bedford, Cressida realized early on she will have to write her own path in life - no one will do it for her. Both her sisters - Isabella and Elizabeth - are closest to her, and while both might be a little bit more on the silent side, Cressida has always been the life of any gathering, normally in a great mood and horribly bored once there is no company around her. She's oftentimes loud, doesn't know how to hold her opinion back, usually stands up for herself and those she loves. Cressida is not afraid to get what she wants and usually has at least three ways of getting it mapped out in her mind before she even makes her move. This is her first season at court and she's looking forward to being there, hoping she will not strike a match right away and possibly stay there (and be free) a bit longer.


Lord Leopold Girault, Earl of Devonshire
FC: Jamie Dornan
Age: 24

Relationships

Lady Lucrezia (Jadis), younger sister, together they make a formidable duo - Leo bringing his observations to Luca, and Luca piecing it together between the two of them. 
Lord Otto, an acquaintance from their days on his own court, and someone he looks forward to seeing.

Renowned at court for being an excellent fighter and a charming man, Leo is a well-rounded person: jousting, music (plays both the lute and the harpsichord), speaks several languages and is quite sweet-talking when he wants to be. He's open to opinions, but once he’s made up his mind, it is difficult to change it. He's guarded, just like his sister, and often comes off as less sincere than Luca. He's an agile and physical aspect of things is important to him - he rarely forgets names and faces. Leo can be careless and impulsive, usually getting out of his little messes using his charm or influence. Normally, he's the desired company with both men and women - he can entertain, dance or discuss high diplomacy within a few moments easily. 


Malkoçoğlu Emin Ali Pashazada
FC: Burak Özçivit
Age: 25

Relationships

Lord Louis, a friend from his time at the French court, someone who can annoy him from time to time, but whose intelligence he appreciates.

The third son of the famous Malkocoglu Pasha, Emin Ali is the surprise child. Emin is a proud man, cunning and resourceful, and just like the most of his family, he has a great talent for military and strategy. His reputation of a great warrior in the Ottoman Empire is surpassed only by his intelligence: he speaks several languages and makes for an exceptional diplomat. What you might not realize is that you'll seldom know how he feels, his opinion or intentions. Just like his favourite game, chess, Emin thinks moves ahead and never does anything without a reason, while oftentimes having to suppress his impulsive side to benefit his cause. He lets the pressure out through physical activity and usually holds nothing back while engaging in those. He's joining the court at the request of Lord Louis, for a season, to try to bring a better relationship between the Ottoman Empire and English Crown.
Note: Emin Ali is the first name, Malkoçoğlu is a family name, Pashazada is the title (his father is Pasha, and as the first son, his title is Pashazada). He's usually addressed as Malkocoglu Pasha or Lord Malkocoglu.


Nicholas van Arkel
FC: Tom Bateman
Age: 22

Relationships

none.

Until recently, the youngest son of a wealthy noble family, Nicholas has finally given into his dream of joining the clergy now the reform has begun. One might call him ambitious, but his only ambition in life is to be happy, so he would disagree. His faith is important to him, but he feels the worldly should go along with the spiritual. His approach might be a bit more aggressive in his opinions: Christian issue should be addressed more forcefully: not necessarily with violence, but with educating people and bringing them to the light. Nicholas is a good company, whether you'd like to have a discussion, pleasant chat or entertain yourself with a game - the fact remains he was raised as a nobleman in a good family. His family isn't the happiest about his recent decision, but Nicholas was unyielding on his decision. 


Lady Mary Boleyn, widow of William Carey, of Aldenham
FC: Sarah Gadon
Age: 28

Relationships

Queen Anne, sister, closest friend at the court right now.
King Henry, brother-in-law, former lover, it's complicated and usually, no one talks about it.
Lord George, brother, confidant, a partner in crime of her choice.
Lord Louis, a friend from the French court.
Lady Colette, newfound friendship in the making, possibly.

Well educated in basic principles of arithmetic, grammar, history, reading, spelling, and writing, and of course, the feminine accomplishments of dancing, embroidery, etiquette, household management, music, needlework, and singing, and games such as cards and chess, Mary was also taught archery, falconry, riding, and hunting. Versatile, fun-loving and utterly free-spirited, she is the talk of the court, but not for the good things. You might notice her beauty and you might learn about her personality - kind, entertaining and friendly - yet, you will most likely hear the most whispers about her chamber adventures (sadly). To this point, Mary has been dutiful daughter and wife, but since her husband passed in the wave of the sweating sickness recently, she turned back to enjoying the court life...for how long? No one can tell.

Edit: Philippe is single again

Last edited by Zaralee (12/12/2020 at 21:41)

Impressions & Personal Plots
Note: the general mood at the court is weird - change is in the air and everyone is, at least in a bit, influenced by that; and then, the wedding is there remind everyone about their own prospects of love, wealth, titles, heirs or everything mentioned - I felt like this has to be said.
honestly, it just feels like I love writing notes.

Lady Colette

Francis will be in a great mood in April: people are joining the court, some he didn't care for have left and the general promise of a male heir is sweetening the air for Francis. He might be lighter in his step, sweeter in his promises and most certainly a better company for Collette. He won't even mention the fact he suspects she is hiding something. He'll seek her company during the month, enjoying the spring and her as much as possible.

Max is still under the impression Colette is not really an available woman, but he'll write it off towards the rumour the king is supposedly reconsidering her estate and title. He'll be in a good mood, enjoying the newcomers and the parties to the fullest. At the end of one party, should they decide to spend some time together - even in just conversation - he'll share the fact he is not going to stay at court past this season, or even shorter than this - his family would like to have him back before the year is through.

Blanca feels both guilty for just showing up at Colette's, but relieved the woman did not just throw her out for doing so. When they sit down to talk, she'll explain her intention not to remain on the court, but neither return to Spain where Joanna of Aragon is no longer the queen but was locked away and the excuse of madness. She'd like to avoid going back, knowing well enough she could almost end up married to the new king since his claim to the throne is unthreatened and she herself is the richest widower that would help him get more lands. She will ask to remain with Colette for a while more (if she'd have her). Blanca will not be a constant at the estate and whenever she'll have the need to reach out, a letter with an unknown wax seal crest will somehow show up in Colette's room. Blanca will make one attempt of showing up at the court, during the mascarade, sneaking into the palace and remaining in the garden.

Henry is going to be a good mood for the majority of the month, which will not get better as time goes. He has no ill feelings for Colette, should they meet he will be pleasant and friendly, but not really get into any serious conversation (which is a general mood of his, not just for Colette). The rest of your interactions throughout the month will depend on Colette & her choice to talk to him regarding her lands.

Lady Eleanor

William is, of course, excited about the marriage. If you wish, you can include the dowry negotiation in your story, which should include Eleanor's father present there too. Will is happy, excited and very, very eager to leave the court with you, and, of course, start the family. He'll go against his better judgment, and sneak into your chambers one night before the wedding - do with this as you'd like.

Isabella is going to make sure you're introduced to Cressida and will try to spend every waking moment between you and her sister, very subtly trying to avoid too much alone time with Mathias to keep the thoughts of the marriage at bay. She will confide in both - Cressida's opinion is that she should abide by the will of her king and queen and embrace the powerful marriage she is offered (if, in fact, she is). Of course, Eleanor's wedding to someone she actually has feelings for will not sit well with what everyone else is urging her to do, so she'll be anxious throughout the month, still trying to keep you shielded from everything negative that is happening.

Otto is going to be happy to see you happy, and somewhat disappointed in yours and William's decision to leave the court so soon after the wedding, although he is quite aware of the reasons behind it. He will, in his own manner, give you and your husband a valuable oak chest, hand-crafted and quite valuable. He'll be in a good mood at the wedding, even helping himself to wine more than normally.

Lady Lucrezia

It's quite clear at this point Otto has developed feelings for Luca, and given the fact he believes he might leave the court before the year is done his brother will ask for his presence back home, he is curious to know her stance on their relationship and should they ask for marriage approval, would she stand by this offer despite what possible disapproval they might encounter along the way. He'll be in a great mood during the wedding and even mascarade, should they socialize.

Magnus still enjoys conversations and doesn't mind spending time with both her and Otto - should you throw Leopold into the mix, he will find himself in awe of Magnus' warrior prince persona almost instantly. Magnus is considering the consequence the new season might hold, especially given the array of new, high ranking nobles coming to court under the protection of Tudors, and he'd like to hear if you feel the same (which is that a great deal of arranged marriages might be in all their futures).

You will receive a letter in the middle of the month, thrown under your door. It turns out, it's from Blanca. She won't speak it out loud, but you'll recognize her writing. She'll announce she might be around during the wedding celebrations - and during the time, a young servant girl will hand you a note, in Latin, telling you to come to the garden, alone. Should you decide to go for it, Blanca will be there, explaining she is trying to avoid going back home to prevent getting married off because of her wealth and lands, especially since former queen (Joanna of Aragon) is locked up under the accusation of madness, while her father is leading the country.

Avis made sure she knows all the names at the court, and she won't lie that what intrigued her the most about Lucrezia is that she apparently enjoys the attention of a Crown Prince of Andechs, and can also be seen in the company of Magnus - so, she is curious. Avis will make sure you share a couple of words along those first few days.

Lady Valerie

Leopold remembers seeing Valerie at a wedding, not that long ago, arriving with her parents quite ceremoniously, which is as far as his recollection goes. He finds her beautiful - her features, frame, fragility - and believes they will eventually share a conversation. The sooner, the better.

Magnus is usually good with names and faces, but he does not remember Archduchess. He doesn't think he'd forget her have they met - her appearance was quite disarming, and he's curious what she's doing here. From what he knows, the girl is not married, she holds a high rank and some lands to her name, meaning her presence there should not be coincidental.

Mathias cannot recall the last time he talked to his cousin, but he is glad she is there and looking forward to reconnecting, hopefully. He will surely approach you right after you've been released from the daily duty on your first day and see if you need something, greet you and all that goes with. He is genuinely glad to see you there.

Robert things you're quite beautiful and wonders what's there to your story. He noticed the fine clothes, expensive jewellery and the carriage, horses and servants that go with you, so he'll inquire into who you are shortly before concluding you're here to marry.

Lady Felicia

Louis won't deny he finds you attractive, possibly because he thinks there's a mischievous sparkle in your eyes - a huge plus. He wouldn't mind sharing a couple of words, or dance with you at some point.

George is (now) at a position where he has to know everyone at court and after a few quick words with Lady Avis, he'll make sure to remember your name. He finds you beautiful and hopes that's not as far as you go, and there's more than beauty here.

Lady Aynişah

Emin Ali recognizes her quickly upon her arrival remembering Demurcu's younger cousin and Demurcu showing up at the court with Aynişah confirms it. It felt strange to see more than a few familiar faces, but he doesn't dislike it at this point, not at all. He doesn't recall if they ever actually talked, but surely it is something that can be corrected in the following months.

Mathias cannot deny he finds the woman beautiful - even if he only caught a glimpse - the way she carried herself was interesting to him, for sure. His curiousity gets the best of him, and he decides to talk to her should he run into her at some moment - he's never visited Ottoman Empire - perhaps he should.

Cressida feels quite happy that there are so many strangers at the court - growing up with the same people, same gossip, same boring day-to-day things seemed quite boring compared to her first few days at court. Aynişah catches her eye easily, and she's curious right away - unfamiliar beauty at a foreign court - there must be more to this, she is sure.

Mary remembers meeting the girl - she cannot remember the name at once, but after they are announce she recalls both Aynişah and Demurcu vividly: sharing some time at the court at the same time, and despite not sharing more than some conversations with the woman, she recalls nothing bad about her. A part of her is happy to see them both, part of her other home here.

Also, just for the good measure, FAQ.
1. Highest nobles at the court?
Besides the reigning couple, and including paper people only:
Lord Louis & Lord Magnus; followed by Lord Otto, and Lord Mathias.
(might add more & keep in mind highest doesn't mean the most powerful

2. What’s with outfits?
They are NOT obligatory. You can do those, don’t have to. New rule

Last edited by Zaralee (11/12/2020 at 08:19)

FORM - DONE

NAME Duchess Colette Issabell Sutton, 4th Duke of Westerland, Viscount Kirkton

AGE 19

FACE CLAIM Jessica Parker Kennedy

RELATIONSHIPS

ALLIES & ACCOMPLICES

Sir Francis Bryan, Earl of Surray

Feels she has been through several highs and lows with Francis through the past year. After his accident and the loss of his eye she has been forced to admit that her feelings for him may run deeper than she should have allowed them to. He has made it abundantly clear, in her mind, that he is interested in nothing more than a dalliance and she will try her best to dispense herself of the foolish notions she has developed over him. He fascinates, excites and infuriates her in like measure. She will not resist continuing their physical relationship.

Lord Maximillian von In der Maur auf Strelburg und zu Freifeld, Burgomeister of Berneck and Freiherr von In der Maur

Max has taken her completely by surprise. For most of last season she hardly noticed him but when she finally did she has not been able to get him out of her mind. What happened in Calais should have stayed in Calais, but it hasn't and now she is finding out that there is far more depth to the arrogant playboy. She likes their open and honest friendship and is feeling drawn to him more. She sees no reason to discontinue their physical relationship.

King Henry VIII of England

Respected and appreciated friendship. She feels complete fealty towards Henry (and England) and counts herself an ally. She has no regrets over their past interactions (she enjoyed him and their rendezvous) and admires him greatly. She is not delusional in thinking that she holds his confidence (at all or completely?), but she will continue to be a staunch supporter and friend should he call upon her.

Doña Blanca Fernandez de Cordoba and Ayala, 4th Duchess of Feria

Admires her brashy independence and forthrightness. Considers Blanca one of her closest companions at court and will continue to value their friendship. She is stunned and uncertain of what to do with the fact that Blanca has shown up at her estate and is now in hiding from the crown of two countries...

Lady Mary Boleyn, widow of William Carey, of Aldenham

Budding new friendship. She sees a lot of similarities between herself and Mary, with her unapologetic zest for life and boldly enchanting personality. Of the three Boleyn's, Mary is the one she has the best rapport and feels the most relaxed and comfortable around.

Sir John Morgan

She genuinely likes John in the humblest most sincere way. She is not opposed to harmlessly flirting with him from time to time but their friendship is developing more into a companionship rather than anything lustful. She feels protective towards him and feels devoted to seeing that he succeed in advancing himself if possible.

INTERESTS Francis (RI) | MAX (RI) | BLANCA | HENRY

WEDDING Colette will attend

Motto: I Lived (One Republic)

STORY - TBD

APRIL 2, 1533 Don't Witness, Do - DONE

Slowly, I let my eyes gaze upon the foyer as I stood there awaiting the carriage to be brought around, a sense of pride filling me considering the changes that had been wrought at Westerland since the Duchy had come under my governance.

No longer was it the gloomy, bleak, dilapidated squalor I’d inherited from my former sluggard of a husband. The atmosphere was fresher… brighter… the staff happier, more caring and dedicated… it wasn’t only my commitment on display here… every bit of the success belonged to them as well.

Large ornate beeswax filled candle holders lined the wall, showcasing a suite of large gold-threaded millefleures tapestries recently procured from a renowned flemish artist. Each told a detailed story in miniature alternating between a rich blue background and orange.  The Duchy colors. The final piece included the first display of the newly designed Ducal coat of arms, the motto prominently etched across a lower banner Alis Volat Propriis. Each color, each creature, each symbol holding meaning and reverence for me. It was how I meant to proceed… loyalty, ambition, wisdom.

Suddenly the front door swung open, drawing my gaze and a reserved but appreciative smile in greeting.

“Your Grace, your valises are loaded onto the carriage and the horses are ready for departure.”

“Carter, thank you. Have you seen Lord Wycliff this morn?”

“Yes, Your Grace, he was off to visit the tenant farms already and we expect that he will return around noon.”

“Very well, inform him upon his return that it will be a while before I can get back this way, but that Duchess Feria will remain for some time still and she is to be given every courtesy until she determines to make her departure.”

The butler nodded his head regally before ushering the door open once again before me to exit. Moments later, poised on horseback, I joined the tiny caravan of livery grooms that escorted me back to court.

⚜️**********⚜️

Returning to Whitehall did not necessarily fill me with ease. I had a lot on my mind, maybe more so than before I left. Because all of the things that had driven me away from Whitehall a couple weeks ago still lingered and new considerations had popped up since then.

One of the grooms assisted my maid Sabrina with my few pieces of luggage and I was more than conscious of the many new faces I spotted in the space between the entrance and the state rooms.  I was all to aware that many were thought to be gone completely from the country only to know for a fact there was at least one short of that number.

Blanca. Was there anyone at Whitehall that had any inclination that she remained on the Continent? Or was this my sole burden to bear? It wasn’t as if I could come out and ask anyone, to all extents and purposes, everyone thought she was off exploring the lands of Africa. Not hold up within the walls of Westerland, within riding distance of the palace. After months of guidance at the Duchy, I felt confident in my staff… both in their effectiveness in duty as well as their loyalty. But, it had been less than a year. It is possible that I may have given too much consideration to the wrong person here or there. What if someone were to speak out about the visitor… hiding… within the mansion?

I resisted the urge to sigh as I walked through the halls of Whitehall. I had to continue to keep faith that I had the right people in the right positions and that they would ensure that what happens at Westerland, stays at Westerland. For now. Until I figured out what steps to take going forward. For now… the fewer people that knew of the woman there, the better.


It didn’t take long to hear word that a ball was planned that eve. A celebration in recognition of those new to court it seemed. I contemplated skipping, I had just arrived back and I was certain that consideration could be made for exhaustion from a day of travel on the horrid English roads. But I preferred the idea of some socializing. It may keep my mind off the things that seemed to linger far too much of late. All the Blanca business and that other thing.

Francis. I still had no resolution for that whole mess either. My emotions were all over the place when I thought of him and I knew that it would do absolutely no good for him to witness my loss of sanity where he was concerned. Because that is what it was. A complete and utter melt down of the brain. He was never ever anything but clear about us. What we were, what we could be. I wasn’t sure that I was any better off now, weeks later, than I had been the last time I saw him standing in the ballroom before I literally ran from him.

At any rate, despite my best effort, he and she were both heavily on my mind when I entered the ballroom hours later, dressing in a rich, deep blue velvet gown with gold trimmings. Everyone seemed to be in fine humor, the King and Queen as well. I had to smile at the way they both doted on each other, obviously deeply in love. It was a far comparison to the relationship that I witnessed between the King and his previous wife, though rumor had it that they shared a genuine and very obvious love match early on in the relationship. It was a sobering and insightful thought, how feelings can change over time.

In just that moment, my eyes drifted to a small crowd of people, my heart seeming to skip a beat at the sight before me. Such odd things, feelings.

Almost immediately I felt anxious, eager… uncertain. I wanted to be near him, touch him, feel him touch me. A moment passed before his gaze shifted and he caught me staring.  Oddly enough, or maybe it wasn’t so odd considering his position and his skill at knowing whatever it is that needed to be known in court, but he did not seem surprised to see me there. But I was not so well prepared for my first sight of him in weeks. Nothing had really changed in the time I was gone. I got the uncanny feeling that he could read right into my thoughts, could sense the unease I was feeling, and I did my utmost best to pretend the foolish notions that had lingered with me since the night I sat by his bedside after the incident no longer existed. It seemed so long ago now, but nothing had changed. The man appeared to tilt his head, perhaps in greeting? The corner of his lip curled slightly up… mockingly, tauntingly… enticingly. A jolt stabbed down my abdomen and lodged at my groin before a pulse began to hammer at my core. I wanted him. There was no denying that. But at what cost?  We were only meant to be lovers, in the most basic sense of the word. Emotions played no part in our relationship. How much more of a fool could I be over him? I tilted my head in greeting, surprising even myself with the aloofness of it all when my insides were a jumbled mess. He need never know how reckless my heart had become. It would go with me to the grave if I had any say in the matter.

To my utter surprise, he seemed to excuse himself from the group he had been speaking with and made his way in my direction. Only making my heart race even faster in my chest. And all I could do was silently chastise myself to calm down.

“Your Grace, back from the country at long last I see…”

“And you… right where I last saw you, surrounded by an small gaggle of twittering young ladies all vying for your attention. You seem to hold your own quite well Lord Bryan…”

“Enough of that…” he scoffed softly and genuinely looked as if he could care less about the title he had so recently received.

“I’m quite certain that you were the one that started in with the formalities…” The words seemed witty in my own ears but I knew it was bravado, an effort on my part to keep the rotten sod from garnering my true emotions. He affected me far more than either of us cared to believe.

He smirked and it sent tingles down my spine. “Indeed… if I didn’t know better, I’d think by your ramrod straight poise and demeanor that you were the most gentil of us all…”

My eyes sparked, “if you didn’t know better…” I confirmed softly, tauntingly. The man grinned rakishly, his one good eye gleaming almost as smartly as mine.

“I will say this, you wear the title well…”

There was something about his tone that sent another trail of shivers down my spine, making me extremely conscious of everything about him, too much so. It was all I could do not to shut my eyes or lean closer to him, both of which would be far too telling in this very public space. Plus, I simply refused, absolutely, to let him see how he affected me. He had far too much advantage as is… besides, he would hate it. My being emotional about him.

“As do you Francis… it suits you well. Whether you fancy it or not. And it’s obvious that I am not the only one that has noticed…”

“ha… there are a number of title worshipers to be certain, and scheming momma’s in tow that are destine to be harshly disappointed.”

“Indeed…” I laughed softly, “they would be better off trying to catch a hummingbird than trying to cast a net over Lord Francis Bryan…”

He grinned in response. “You are definitely improving on your skill at judging people”

I shook my head, still holding a grin… with concentrated effort, at the entire ridiculousness of him being proud at such a reputation, but it was who he was. “I had an excellent teacher…”

He smirked again and nodded. “Which reminds me… you ran off before we could continue to your lessons…”

“I didn’t run off…” I lied. Again. The doubtful expression he cantered made me wrinkle my nose. “I had pressing matters to tend to at the Duchy… it’s a big responsibility”

He continued to look at me arrogantly, skeptically. I refused to concede the truth of his words. I’d never admit it no matter how long I lived.

“Well then… now that you are back you will want to continue?”

My pulse raced and stomach flipped. I knew that I should say no. That he was far too dangerous, and I was far too weak of late. But if I did, he would know the truth. And my pride would not allow me to tuck tail and run.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t we? Unless your dance card is overly full these days…”

A devilish grin spread across his face, “not so full that I won’t make time for my little apprentice…”

Another jolt of shivers spread down my body, but I did attempt to remain aloof in his presence, acting as if the very topic was of the least amount of concern.

“Then it’s settled… excellent…” at least I thought I did, at first. But the words sounded raspy, almost achy. And when his eyes shifted down to my plumped-up bosom, I knew that they rose deftly in display before he responded in turn.

“Excellent…”

Moments later he promised to make arrangements soon to continue with the lessons before he left my side. Needless to say, I was a jumble of nerves. Foolishly. I tried to chastise myself, but it was no use. I wanted to go. I wanted to continue experiencing all that Francis wanted to give.

Edgy now, I slipped from the crowded, humid ballroom through two huge archways onto a darkly shadowed terrace, desperate for a breath of fresh air to try and steady myself.

How utterly stupid. I was more than capable of handling this situation. Look at everything else I had been through over the past months, in the last year. This was a piece of cake. Nothing too strenuous or mind blowing. It was just Francis.

It was a cool spring evening, cloudless and the stars were shining brightly but I simply was too preoccupied in my own head to pay much attention to the beauty of the moment. So much so that I ended up barreling right into the broadside of a gentleman’s back after pacing from the entryway a ways.

“Ohh my, so sorry” I hissed quickly, clutching at his arm in an effort to steady myself from stumbling back.

The cheeky grin staring down at me when I managed to finally look up did absolutely nothing to diminish my already pulsing energy. No. Everything just seemed to intensify. And I couldn’t help but consider, not for the first time, how fickle and lascivious I had become. Just seconds before my mind had been filled with images of a completely different man. A proper, respectable woman would feel some sort of shame I assumed.

“Welcome back…”

Tingles spread through me at the sound of his voice and I didn’t bother to hide the smile that tugged at the corners of my mouth. Was it weird that I felt no such compulsion to be more discerning with this man?

“Max, thank you…” but then I peed around curiously, imaging that I much have slipped out into some sort of illicit meeting. I frowned. “You’re alone…”

He chuckled softly, following my gaze momentarily before looking back at me, “Appears so… whom did you think I was out here with?”

“I… honestly, I did not know you were here. The last I saw of you, you were surrounded and quite monopolized…”

“Spying on me from the shadows again Colette?”

I smirked, “it was not very difficult to see you considering that you tower over quite a few people of court, I would not call it spying… and I would have spoken earlier, but as I said… you were quite involved with the crowd hovering in your presence.”

“Certainly none would have objected to your joining whichever little group I mingled with…”

I laughed a little deeper, “surely you underestimate the strategies of the fairer sex… I’d venture to say any number of your lovely admirers would object, perhaps under their breath, to my attempting to gain your attention.”

“If it were possible for you to be around and not have my attention then they may have a point… as it stands, you do not need to do much…”

“If that were the case you would have noticed me quite some time ago” I chuckled again shaking off his flattery. “standing in the shadows…”

“You assume I did not…” before I knew it he lifted a hand and tucked a strand of loose hair behind my ear “I am certain very few people do not note when the female duke enters the room…”

I shook my head slowly, goosebumps spreading down my arms after the tender caress. “Is that what I am boiled down to… the girl with the title…”

“Does that truly distress you?”

I am certain I gave him a curious gaze before shaking my head. “Not particularly. People will have their opinion of me whether I concern myself with it or not. As long as I like me I think that is quite literally enough. Eventually perhaps someone else may choose to find some merit in me over the title…”

“I dare say that most that spend more than a couple minutes chatting with you find you quite witty and charming”

I pressed my lips together and wrinkled my nose. “My you are full of prose this eve Max, I assure you, your other ladies may require elaborate flattery to win them to your side but not so me. I am already quite fond of you.”

His eyes turned smokey, and his wolfish grin grew a little bit more wicked as his words almost hissed out in a soft note “oh come now, fond? Surely I’ve earned a little bit more admiration from you…”

Instantly, my pulse jolted again, and I felt a thump deep in my core. “I believe I said quite fond… besides… I am certain you do not lack of women bolstering your ego with idolized pageantry, why would you need more admiration!”

He stepped a bit closer, the scent of him filling my nose, making goosebumps spread down my limbs.

“You seem keenly obsessed by the attentions I get from others… for you mentioned it three times in such a short span of minutes… no… four times. I might start to infer there’s a reason for that?”

His words, perhaps not intending too, struck me harder than I expected. Had I truly? I had not even realized but apparently, he did. Infer something indeed… “Obsessed? You assume too much My Lord…”

His lips stayed curled, quite confident and smug. “Perhaps… wishful thinking?”

I laughed, “you hardly need more admirers!”

“Five times…”

“Oh stuff it Max… it is quite obvious that you know I enjoy your company. I cannot believe how you fish for compliments this eve. And it is not as if you have not already heard me admit to my extreme fondness towards you”

“Extreme fondness now… I do quite like that”

“Incorrigible!”

Suddenly, he pulled my hand into his own and tugged me a few steps further onto the balcony and behind a rather large pillar that effectively blocked us completely from the doorway. Should anyone step out there we would be completely concealed. He grinned down at me as he moved even closer, our bodies actually pressed together. With hardly any effort my body responded, squirming and slithering against his hard body as his hands gripped my waist firmly.

“And does this fondness extend to the bedchamber Colette?”

I squirmed again as I gazed up at him, a wicked grin soon followed, “I am quite certain that it started in the bedchamber and moved outward from there…”

“Indeed” he chuckled before he leaned down pressed his lips softly against the racing pulse along my collarbone.

“You cannot seduce me right here on the terrace Max…” I hissed all while I ground closer to him, wanting more.

“And yet…” he whispered against my ear, “it seems that I am”

I trembled harder, my fingers slipping out and gripping the fabric of his silver brocade doublet, my heart racing urgently as I hissed regretfully…

“I mean to say that you should not…”

“Why not?” his warm breath danced across my flesh and I whimpered, shutting my eyes and finding myself arching delicately to grind a bit more insistently against him. His fingers dug in deeper, pinching my sides and I was certain that he was as affected by our nearness as I. The growing wedge in his hose proved that.

“We would not wish to be caught here…” I uttered weakly and made no effort whatsoever to pull back or stop his hands or lips from their pursuit. In fact, every touch seemed to ignite the fire brewing between us even farther. Minutes ticked by before he finally, reluctantly pulled back, both of us utterly breathless.

“Your responsiveness is intoxicating…”

I couldn’t help it, I laughed faintly, still struggling to catch my breath. Tenderly he brushed the pad of his thumb across my lower lip.

“You will come to me later tonight…”

It wasn’t a question. Still, I couldn’t resist the urge to challenge him. “Will I?”

“Yes.”

My core twitched madly. I could have pretended that I was not interested, or that he could not be so presumptuous. I could have insinuated that I preferred to just enjoy the rest of the evening alone before heading to bed, on my own, alone. But truly, there was no point in guile or haughtiness. He saw straight through me. I was not meant to be a witness to the world evolving around me. No. I was much more of a doer than an observer.

And Max, at the moment, seemed more than willing and eager to reap the benefits of my all too eager adventurous spirit.

“Until later then…” I purred while watching him through half-hooded lids. The words were met with a broader grin before the man slipped back into the shadows. I continued to stand there breathless, anticipating what was to come as his footfalls faded into the distance.

APRIL 5 - APRIL 7, 1533 Take The Jump - TBD

APRIL 18, 1533 Raise Your Cup - DONE

A few weeks passed with not a lot of time for dallying around. Preparations for Lady Clifford’s wedding had fallen to the Queen’s Ladies and we were definitely all about the task. There were fabrics to be sewn and flowers to arrange. Halls to be decked and meals to be planned. The servants were moving dawn to dusk in the last days working to put all of our ideas in motion. Little time indeed for frivolous activities. Though that did not seem to stop me. I did however slow down a bit. And not really from lack of opportunity or availability. No. After the weekend of the hunt, I was beginning to reflect on things a little differently than I had previously.

Even now, as I sat before Sabrina as she combed through and styled my hair, I couldn’t quite take my mind off things. My life, in general. My commitments, my duties, the men… I was still enjoying myself, and I harbored no regrets, even until this day. But… I knew that something was changing. I was changing. Or maybe the correct word to use would be evolving.

I could of course chalk it all up to my growth from managing the Duchy. Even I had to admit that being thrust so fully into that aspect of my life forced me to look more at the bigger world in general. The day-to-day duties were all in and effort to expand and grow, to ensure that my children, and those after them, had something to look forward to.

And I wondered, if it was the obvious love shared between the couple marrying that very day that had me contemplating my future so very much. What other reason could it be that had me considering such things when I spent nearly every minute of every day working or playing. In equal measure. Rarely did I sit around contemplating plans outside of building up Westerland. Not for me personally. I took each day as they came. Shared my time with people that amused me or pleased me. But seeing the Lady Clifford and Lord Fairfax so fully invested in each other, not to mention King Henry and Queen Anne… you literally could almost choke on the romance in the air.

But then again… perhaps it was the brief conversation with Henry that put the bee in my bonnet so to speak. The rumors that I had gotten wind of during the hunt were enough to create a bit of a panic. The fact that he waved off the conversation could be either good or very, very bad. I had no way to gauge what his frame of mind was on the matter and until I had a full conversation with him, I would stay in limbo. But it was definitely another reason that had me thinking about the future. For me… for the Duchy.

And I couldn’t seem to stop the sudden revelation once it hit. Nor the thoughts that flowed once my mind warped my emotions into a semblance of conscious thought. I wanted that. A family. Children. A legacy. I had known since the moment I had been entitled Westerland that I wanted to make it successful. But only recently did I honestly start to consider why I was so intent on making it successful. Why, and for who?

Without warning an image sprang to mind. A memory really. A grinning face, unheard, forgotten words slipping from his lips and even though I didn’t remember the exact conversation I knew enough to remember that he was teasing me about something or another. Not unusual. I smirked softly, then froze. My heart raced a little, then a little more.

“If I may say My Lady, this blue silk taffeta is utterly breathless.”

I turned my head, the words breaking me from my thoughts to see Sabrina brushing out the wrinkles in the gown I had made for the wedding. The gold threaded bodice shimmied in the candlelight from the wall sconce. It was beautiful. Another addition to my growing collection of expensive garments. The Duchy was doing very well.

And I planned to keep it that way.

But enough of my musings. Two loose ringlets bounced as rose and forced myself to push my wandering thoughts from my mind, deep into the back of my mind. There was simply no time available to consider any of that, especially not the last little bit.

There was a wedding I needed to get to.

APRIL 27, 1533 Own Every Second - TBD

THE LOOKS - DONE
MASCARADE | WEDDING

Last edited by BambiFoxx (20/12/2020 at 18:27)

Lady Eleanor Victoria Clifford, 18FC: Holliday Grainger

Form

Relationships:
Lord William - Betrothed; Prince Otto & Lady Isabella - Good Friends

Interests: Lord William (RI); Prince Otto & Lady Isabella (both FI)

Attending the Wedding: Yes!

Story

2nd April - Changes and making decisions

5th - 7th April - Out for an adventure

18th April - Moments of Happiness

27th April - Enjoy yourself

Last edited by schoggettchen (11/12/2020 at 09:30)

Archduchess Valerie of Austria, 22 - Haus HabsburgFC: Àstrid Bergès-Frisbey

Form

Personality traits:

Born as the second daughter to Ferdinand I of Austria – Archduke of Austria and King of Hungary and Croatia – and Anne of Hungary – Archduchess of Austria and Queen Consort of Hungary and Croatia – Valerie has lived a rather sheltered life. She had spent most of her days at the court in Innsbruck… has never seen anything other than her family’s lands. The young woman isn’t a fan of larger crowds, instead, prefers spending time all by herself. Valerie has always felt a bit hesitant to interact with people… there had been only a few genuine friendships she had built over the past years. Once she feels comfortable enough she will slowly open up. She does strive for genuine connections but feels the constant worry of getting hurt.

She isn’t someone to speak her mind without being asked or without thinking about it… she tries not to let her emotions get a hold of her. She has a polite and well-spoken nature and would never be willing to hurt another person. Valerie cares little about rumours. The young woman knows what is expected from her and over the years she has learned to choose duty over everything else. Due to various private tutors, she learned to speak several languages and she knows her fair share about politics but isn’t a subject she tries to get involved too much. Valerie has a talent for singing and embroidering… she takes great joy in spending her day – after her duties are done – with reading one of the many books she loves.

Valerie was close to being wed twice for political reasons… the last time had been three years ago. Since then she had watched silently as her siblings getting married or engaged. It was quite a surprise for her when her father told her that she would be going to the English Court to serve as a Lady-in-waiting for Queen Anne. Not only it is her first time away from the Austrian court but she also doesn’t know what to expect.

Interests: Lord Leopold Girault, Lord Magnus Erickson Vasa, Lord Mathias & Lord Robert Carr

Connections at court: Cousin – Lord Mathias of Austria; they used to be quite close during their childhood but have last seen each other over 2 years ago

Attending the Wedding: Yes

Story (tell me about your arrival, the mascarade and other events you want to include - keep in mind you need to interact with interest in order to get impressions)

Cred to MB

Story

2nd April - A new chapter

5th - 7th - This is quite unexpected

18th - Love is worth celebrating

27th April - You can be anyone

Last edited by schoggettchen (11/12/2020 at 09:30)

Form

Lady Felicia Compton, Baroness Morely
Age: 23
Face claim: Jenna Coleman
Personality traits: Fun-loving/Dynamic/Sociable/Attentive/Dainty//Vain/Single-minded/Proud/Self-indulgent

Felicia served as Lady-in-Waiting during one season, five years prior. At court she was known to be something of a flirt, and while her friends might have called her lively, more gruff voices would perhaps have said wild. She was good at keeping tabs of the gossip at court and well aware she was sometimes herself the topic of wagging tongues. Before any permanent damage could be done to her reputation, however, she was married to the heir to the Barony of Morley, whom she had had a long-standing engagement to. After her marriage she returned to the manor pregnant, but a child has yet to waddle through its halls. Since then her husband has succeeded his father to the title. The Baron and Baroness has visited the court for events during the years and the Baron supported the King’s Great Matter.

Returning to court, Felicia does so with a bit of more wit behind her brow, happy to serve the new queen, but as excited for the splendour of court life. She is an admire of all things of beauty, which in its worst can expresses itself in vanity and greed. She greets everyone with a smile, friend or foe, and there is nothing she loves more than a good laugh, a bit of conversation and pleasant company. But she shouldn’t be dismissed as solely a pretty face, she has a more calculating side beneath it. While friendly, she confides in but a few and once in her confidence she’ll keep your secrets as close to her heart as she does her own.

Interests: Lord Louis, Lord George and one more tbc
Let me know if you'll attend the wedding: Yes

The Departure

“Bessie!” Felicia called out as she strode back into the house. She had been up with the sun as there was much to prepare before her departure.

“Yes, milady.” The girls scurried in with a bob.

“Has Lord Morley come down yet?”

The girl shook her head vigorously. “No, milady. His lordship has not yet sent for a tray to break his fast.”

The morning had run away, and it was late even for her husband to rise at this hour. “Set someone to prepare a tray, Bessie, and I’ll bring it to him.”

With a nod, a bob, and another “milady” she scurried away again, and Felicia let out a small sigh.

Knocking at the chamber door, Felicia waited. She didn’t press her ear to the wood, not really, but she stood close enough to hear muffled voices talking inside. She entered first when a voice bid her to. The room was dark to her eyes, she caught the sound of the door closing on the other side of the room, but she made herself not look over there. A humoured good morning came from the bed.

Setting the tray down at a table she went over to the windows and withdrew the heavy curtains with a flourish, the cover of cloud was thin enough to let the sun through, light spilling into the room. She turned to face her husband with a half-smile. “I’d say most of the good morning has passed already.”

“Oh, come now, I know it is not so,” Arthur said. He sat upright in bed, shirt covering his torso, and nothing else in the room spoke of what had passed there in the night – she was always thankful for that. She huffed a little, but it was more a jest than anything else.

“I brought a tray,” she said and gestured at the table, but he interrupted her before she could continue.

“You’re leaving for court today.”

“I wasn’t sure you’d remember.”

“You know I wouldn’t forget.” She wouldn’t have let him, with the constant chatter of the topic during the weeks leading up to her departure, and not to mention the significant lighter his purse sting had become since silks and wools and velvets had been ordered for a new wardrobe, fitting a lady at court. And of course, for the fact that he would miss her.

“You can’t wait to leave, can you?” He chuckled, the sparkle in her eyes spoke the truth plainly enough.

“I will miss you awfully,” she said with a grimace. Their marriage might not be a marriage in every aspect of the word, but to an outside eye it would perhaps look more loving than most, and it was. “I’ll be leaving in a couple of hours, I’ll dine and stay the night at my lord father’s, I so long to see how much my newest younger sister has grown since last I visit, then I’ll be heading the rest of the way to London from there in the morning. I’ve overseen the management and the household should run smoothly in my absence –”

“I’m am sure of it.” And there was no doubt in his words. She had kept a precise house since she took her first step in it and by now the workings was a steady routine, he guessed there was almost nothing that could shake it out of its hinges. “Now, come here.” He patted the mattress beside him. She paused, but then want over and sat down at the edge of the bed.

“I’ll write to you when I have settled in.”

“I’ll believe you’ll have much more excitement filling your days than writing to me.”

“There is to be a wedding in a little over a fortnight, the Baron of Steeton marrying the lovely Lady Eleanor Clifford, if I remember correctly, you could always attend.” She knew before suggesting it that the likeliness of him doing so was minimal.

“I’ll return next when my king demands it, but I doubt he need me present for a wedding.” She knew well of his dislike of life at court, but as a member of parliament he had been of some significance (she wasn’t well versed in how or how much) in supporting the King’s Great Matter. As things had started to settle, she knew he was relieved not to be called down to court as often as during the uneasy months that had passed.

“And besides,” he added, “you’ll do just as good without me.” While she had been the good dutiful wife, he knew her social needs and love for splendour could not be sated by their country living, not when there was no distraction coming along. He hoped some time a court could do her good in more than one way.

“I’ll be down to see you off,” he said and took her hand.

“Good,” she said. He pressed his lips to the back of her hand. She smiled, but then withdrew it and stood up. “You should wash and eat some, before then.” Another smile, and she then strode out the room without more ceremony.

The Arrival

There was fluttering in her stomach, she wasn’t a frilly young girl anymore, Felicia told herself (though truth be told, she would always be a bit frilly at heart), but still, it was an equal measure nerves and excitement – to meet the new Queen.

The Dowager Duchess was leading the way down the hallway to her audience. She was the ideal of poise and sophistication, Lady Avis, it was at least the impression Felicia had of the woman from merely moments of conversation. She would not be someone to be trifled with.

The Baroness Morley was announced, and Felicia entered, curtsying low, head bowed, waiting for a word to rise again. It was something she wouldn’t ever be nervous about, she knew how to make a neat and graceful curtsy as well as she knew the back of her hand.

“Baroness Morley.”

She rose to face the Queen. There was another woman not to be trifled with, but her air was different from her mistress of the robes’, first of all there was a tug of a smile at the corner of her lips and her eyes – behind her eyes there was a fiery thing.

“Your grace, it’s an honour to come here”

Pleasantries were exchanged, there was the careful prodding. Felicia admitted to her love for music and presented her talents, something which seemed to please the Queen. Then she confessed for her love of dancing and it earned her a smile.

“Then I believe you are most welcome to enjoy the ball tonight.”

“I’m sure it will be a marvellous night, your grace.”

“And I’m happy to announce we set out for hunt in a few days time.” 

“A hunt?” Felicia had not been quick enough to hide her blatant surprise. But the queen seemed somewhat pleased not to be the expected.

“I do hope you ride, Baroness.”

Felicia had turned her initial surprise into a smile. “Of course, your grace.” She did ride quite well, her own pride would not have let her be anything but straight back, on horse back or on her own two feet, and her good balance in the saddle kept her seated in most situations. “But I have not shot since I was a girl and I’m afraid I would more likely catch the backside of a poor squire than any bird with my aim.”

There was some amusement heard around the room.

“If it is the truth and not just modesty, perhaps you’d best be kept from the bows.” A bit more amusement flicked through.

“I believe it would be wise to do so, your grace, but I’m sure I’ll enjoy the outing all the same. And if I may say so, your grace,” a curt nod from the Queen bid her continue, “the air, it is something quite different from my previous visits.” Obviously it was well known she had served the now Dowager Princess of Wales, but she wasn’t so dull that she would mention it outright.

“How so?” Queen Anne asked.

“Happier,” Felicia said, “more true. Ready to embrace a true heir to it’s throne.”

The Queen smiled in response. Flattery had always come easy to Felicia, but when it was true there was a lightness to her words, she could never quite mimic. And she did truly think the new Queen was a change for the better.

***

The musicians playing, wine flowing and platters of fruits and foods around the hall. Brocaded gowns in all colours of the rainbow, swirling in dance, lit up by the candlelight. Felicia could never get enough of this, when life had not taken the turn it was supposed to, she could at least have this again. She drank it in and smiled.

After the audience with the Queen she had met some of the other ladies before retiring to her rooms, resting a bit and then changing for the night’s feast.

“Lady Isabella, Lady Cressida,” she greeted the two daughter of the Duke of Bedford she had met earlier. The stiffer neck of the older contrasted the excited gleam of the younger as they greeted her back.

“Baroness Morley”

“Oh please, Felicia will do just fine.”

They chatted a bit before Isabella noticeable saw someone across the room.

“Can I entrust my sister to you for a while, Lady Felicia?” Isabella asked, she was quite the proper older sister, Felicia thought.

“Of course, I’d be glad to have her company, if Lady Cressida doesn’t mind mine?” She did not and Isabella excused herself.

“Who ever could it be she spotted?” Felicia asked, straining her neck to see who it might have been, but Isabella had disappeared into the crowd, she then cast a glance at the younger sister.

Cressida seemed to contemplate it for a second but then leaned in closer. “It might have been the Prince of Bohemia.”

Felicia narrowed her eyes, waiting for more but being the dutiful sister, Cressida left it at that. But it was enough for Felicia to connect the dots, at least assume them.

“Is she running towards or away from him then?” She asked with a sly grin.

Cressida’s eyes widened, then burst out in giggles, and the seriousness in the previous moment was gone. “I know what I’d be.”

“Which is?” Felicia asked with feigned incredulity. “Well, I don’t know what he looks like, I have not had the pleasure to meet the Prince yet, is he strikingly handsome? Or is he old, and without teeth perhaps?”

They shared a laugh and Felicia hooked her arm in Cressida’s.

“Let’s go and finds of us some wine,” then she put her head closer to the girl’s, “just imagine what kissing someone without teeth would be like!”

They did find a couple of goblets of wine, it was not a hard task, but Felicia also found a familiar face from her previous time at court, the first since she arrived.

“Sir Francis, I dare say.” He boasted the same smug smile she had known him for from last time she had been a lady-in-waiting. She doubted he had changed much, personality wise – the lack of one eye was an obvious change, and the cause of it had reached her ears long before she’d arrived at court. He approached them. “You look as … gallant as ever, I can’t believe year have passed.”

“Baroness Morley, I must say I’m impressed the Baron dares let you go off to court unaccompanied.” So, some of her promiscuous reputation had survived, in some minds.

She pressed her lips together, still smiling. “Oh, I see it now, there are a few more crow’s feet around the … eye.” But she continued, not sure if wise to let him cut in with more clever remarks. “I’m not sure you’ve had the pleasure to meet a fellow new lady of the queen?”

She made the introductions but did not linger more than necessary, and out of earshot of the man, she cautious shared some gossip about the man. Some of it made be old events but she guessed it was still valid for his character.

Then there it was time for dancing, for what ball is complete without dancing? Lady Cressida danced with a Sir John, a poet who came and talked with them quite boldly. Felicia stood with another courtier and it was a joy to dance.

She came away from the dance slightly breathless – perhaps a bit out of shape – and with a laugh on her lips. She was on the hunt for another goblet of wine when she came passed Lady Avis, catching her gaze Felicia halted.

“Dowager Duchess,” she curtsied.

“Lady Morley, you look like you are having a good time.”

The line could hold encouragement, or possibly scorn, but gazing at the woman, she could not find the thought behind it – which was perhaps the beauty of the presentation. But as always, Felicia smiled.

“It is what’s expected of a ball, is it not, your grace?” The lady was standing in company with two men, as she glanced at them Lady Avis introduced her.

“Lady Morley, may I introduce Lord Louis Charles de France, Duke of Orleans and Lord Philippe Louis de Vassinhac d'Imécourt, 5th Lord of the Marquisate of Imécourt. Your grace, my lord, Lady Felicia Compton, Baroness Morley, one of the newest additions to the Queen’s ladies.”

“Your grace, my lord. Enchanté.” She curtsied, the court seemed to have exchanged the Spanish for the French, but she didn’t complain. Lord Philippe sported a friendly smile and the Duke of Orleans, well, under his gaze she found herself glancing at him from under her lashes, a coy smile on her lips. Thankfully, her French was without fault (which could not be said for her Latin, but it had not been demanded of her yet).

“I was distraught to hear I missed the journey the court made to Calais, earlier in the year.”

“It was a memorable occasion,” Lord Philippe offered.

“Initiate the English in the French way,” Lord Louis added with a half-smile, sharing a glance with his countryman. 

“I may not have been here long yet, but I have already heard some of the ladies sigh over the pleasant memories,” Felicia glanced at Lady Avis, unsure how forward she dared to be in her presence. The Dowager Duchess still unnerved her, as she had yet to access her in a quieter surrounding. “Then I may hope some of the French way may still linger, as does it’s peers.”

She held back a giggle and asked to be excused shortly after. Hoping very much to engage with the French again.

The Hunt

Lifting her skirts, Felicia tried her best to keep them out of the dirt and wet grass. It was a hopeless case – to be sure – but she desperately tried anyway. She had wondered more than once why a spectacle such as this was not arranged in the summer, when at least when the days were warmer and the wet ground not as prominent. There had been plenty of wine and food to help with that and not to mention the merry mood of the court, all things she enjoyed, but she would rather had done back at the palace. However miserable she felt inwards, she presented a cheerful spirit.

“Baroness Morley!” She turned see the Queen’s brother walk towards her. During the few days at court so she had made it her mission to put names to new faces. There was much new blood since her last time at court, there was more new acquaintances to make than old ones to greet. She had been introduced to George Boleyn but had not spoken with him further.

“Viscount Rochford,” she curtsied.

“As one of her ladies, perhaps you know where I might find my dear sister?”

“The Queen set up a small feast just outside camp, my lord, I was just on my way over. A celebration, the Queen caught something quite grand, I believe.”

“Then perhaps we may head there together?”

“Of course, my lord,” she consented with a nod and they started walking.

“You believe?” Felicia looked over at the Viscount as he spoke, “You did not join the hunt yourself?”

She had joined the Queen’s group the previous day but after a whole day in the saddle, she had decided to sit this day out.

“Ah,” then she laughed heartily. “I’m sorry my lord, you are not privy to the joke. But no, I did not ride out today. I have in fact been declared quite the hazard.”

There had been talk the other day among the ladies, of just how bad her aim could be, and it had been decided she was to be set to the test. And so, with any poor squire at a safe distance, she had been handed a bow and a set target. While she didn’t find her target, her arrow came close enough to hit one of the horses in the shoulder, close enough that it spooked. Luckily, the girl in the saddle sat securely enough that she did not tumble to the ground. But it was merrily declared by the Queen that Felicia was to be kept from the bows for the remainder of the hunt. Something she was happy to agree to.

Recounting the tale, the Viscount joined her in merriment. She did not mind him laughing at her failure, not when it was a skillset she had never tried much to perfect.

“Perhaps you should find yourself a skilled bowman to tutor you, knowing my sister it will be the last hunt we set out to.”

“Oh, you are too late with your offer, my lord,” she boldly assumed. “Lady Mary has already taken pity on me. But perhaps I’ll advise her to wear a bit of amor, should I take her up on it.”

“Please do, I do prefer my sisters well and unharmed.”

Felicia laughed. They were nearing the gathering, as told by ringing laughter and chatter reaching them.

“Are you back before you group, my lord? I did not see anyone of the others back at camp.”

“My horse cast a shoe and I had already caught my fair share, I thought I might as well ride back early and let the others stand a chance.”

“The way I’ve seen your sisters shoot, I do not doubt it,” she tittered, they had now arrived at the gathering.

“Dear brother!” The queen called out, her voice merry. “And Lady Felicia, you are joining us.”

Felicia curtsied. “I thought I’d lead the Viscount to the feast, your grace.”

With a smile and a nod to Lord Boleyn she joined one of her fellow ladies, with a goblet of sweet wine and some laughter she could surely weather the rest of the hunt.

The Wedding

There had been much to prepare for the wedding of Lady Eleanor and Lord William. They were the sweetest couple one could imagine and the pure love they shared apparent to all who saw them. The day had arrived but still a few things to attend to, courtiers scurrying around and Lady Avis had been strict in setting the Queen’s ladies to appropriate tasks.

“Lady Cressida,” Felicia had found the younger lady, who’s company she’d come to appreciate, walking purposely down a hallway with a few other ladies. “Would you come with me to the garden, the bride asked me to go pick her some flowers.”

Cressida looked puzzled at her but came with still.

“There can’t be that many flowers in bloom yet, Felicia,” Cressida commented once they were out of earshot.

“I guess could be right, but don’t you think we need a little breather before we need to change for the ceremony? We have been extremely dutiful, these last days, have we not?” She looked at the younger woman with a smirk. “And once you say you are on an errand for the bride no one will dare question you.”

“So, you don’t think the celebration will be reward enough for all out hard work?” Cressida laughed. “All the same, I’m not complaining.”

“Isn’t it quite wonderful, love in the air, a day such as this? Even the weather seems to agree with the occasion,” Felicia declared as they strolled on the garden path.

“You sound like quite the romantic, Felicia!”

“Are you not? Are there not someone here at court who has caught your eye yet?” She teased.

“Two weeks! Only two weeks I spent at court, are there need for such haste?”

“No need, perhaps, but sometimes one can’t help falling, a little, or a lot. What about the one you danced with at the ball? The poet, Sir John? The man has a lovely smile.”

“I think not! He’s all cheeky smiles and bold words,” she snorted.

“I see you are not one to fall so easily, Lady Cressida” Felicia smiled, the girl had blood pumping and wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, all in all entertaining company.

“I do declare, that I at least will have some say in the matter!”

Felicia laughed at the girl’s determination. “I doubt not.”

“Is it how you found your Baron? A court romance.”

“Our families are well acquainted, our match had been agreed upon by both sides for many years before we were married, it was only for his majesty to deem the engagement acceptable, which he did.”

“How romantic,” Cressida rolled her eyes.

“It was, a romance in a way. I had time to get to know my intended, I knew Arthur’s character inside out when we married, and by that time I had grown fond of him, and him of me.” She could see Cressida did not look quite convinced.

“Perhaps we should see if we can find some flowers for our sweet Eleanor after all.” Felicia suggested after they walked for a while, they didn’t have much more time before they had to head back in order to get ready.

They found some spring flowers in bloom and started back.

“Aren’t they lovely?” She laughed and declared loudly: “What more can a bride want, a lovely wedding day with flowers in her hair, well except of course, for a ravenous wedding night.” Her voice had taken on a bittersweet, melancholy, note at the last words, her husband had not cared if she had been a maid or not and there had been no tossing in the sheets on her own wedding night. But Cressida was distracted enough not to notice, and caught her laughter in her throat, by the fact that the two of them where not far from walking straight into Lord Boleyn as they turned a corner.

The collision was only prevented by the fact that the Queen’s brother must have overheard their conversation, his amused smile said as much, halting just in time.

“Lord Boleyn!” Her surprise came out as half laugh, half forgetting her manners.

“Lord Boleyn, a close call!” Cressida uttered in the same breath.

“Lady Morely, Lady Gascoyne, in high spirits I see!”
“Wedding bells are soon to ring for out fellow lady-in-waiting,” Cressida said with a smile, “is that not reason enough my lord?”

“More than enough, I believe.”

“Oh, do excuse us my lord, we must hurry along.” He gave them a nod.

“Perhaps, my lord,” Felicia added, all but giggling, “we may see you dance at the celebration tonight?”

And with that two ladies hurried along.

The Masquerade

Masquerades were a curious thing, Felicia had always thought. It wasn’t as if a mask covering part of your face disguised you beyond recognition. Masked, she still knew a great part courtiers, if some only my name or face. Still, the masks did something more, because even though their power of disguise were poor, they did transform the wearer. It was a night of opportunity, of boldness, acting just a little out of place, of taking chances. A night of hiding oneself and perhaps revealing something truer – or stepping into another character altogether. And only the anticipation of what could happen – safe to say Felicia enjoyed it immensely.

The court had been far from a disappointment over the month Felicia had walked it halls again. The mood had been great since the wedding, growing only more joyous as the Queen was confirmed pregnant. The prospect of an heir, a prince to be born – finally – it was surely to tighten the already strong bond between King and Queen, surely? Which was why the chill that had crept into the relationship, was so unexpectedly. It was at least what the rumours said, if you listened to them, which of course Felicia did. She had witnessed the tension with her own eyes too. In the attendance of the Queen, the bites had not been kept under the level of voices carrying on occasions. As ladies-in-waiting, glances had been exchanged and duties had been carried on with.

Still, it was matters that could be pushed to the back of her mind for a night such as this.

There masquerade was shrouded in an air of mystery. Felicia nursed a goblet of wine and savoured the feeling. Flirty banter with some of the courtiers and a few shared laughs with ladies had already taken place.

“I find you unaccompanied, my lady.”

If not the set of his mouth and his raven locks had given him away, his French drawl surely would have. But beyond the mask, there was no knowing who he might be.

“Your grace,” she curtsied low, but kept his gaze, a smile luring. “Please join me.” He closed in a little more.

“A night of splendour,” she added, “I hope you have found some amusement, your grace.”

“Some yes, but the night is far from though.”

“True words.”

“And you, my lady, have you enjoyed the delights of the night?

“Ah, yes, your grace, but then I am one to indulge.” She sipped from the goblet. “Like this wine,” she tittered, “such richness on my tongue, I can’t get enough, it can be nothing but French I’m sure.”

“I’d say most of the greatest pleasures are,” the smile on his lips were playing on the verge of wicked. “But I’ve found the English has it’s jewels too.”

“Our dear Queen is one such jewel I’d say, your grace,” Felicia remarked, retreating a step from more dangerous territory.

“Oui, madame, and a special one at that. Radiant in every light.”

Felicia smiled with a glance at the dais the King and Queen occupied, then laughed softly.

“Would the lady grace me with a dance?”

Her eyes widened slightly, as if surprised, and her chest swelled with the indrawn breath, she bowed her neck gracefully. “Little would please me more, your wish would my command, you grace.”

She grasped his offered hand and he led them out on the dancefloor.

Not that she had doubted, but he was a graceful dancer. Compared to the hunt in the woods, this was one more to her pleasure. She was sure, if he wanted her to, she’d play the role of prey.

Round done!

Last edited by tricole (14/12/2020 at 16:47)

Form

Name: Lucrezia Girault

Age: 20

Face claim: Bruna Marquezine

Relationships:

Family, friends… love?

Lord Leopold Girault, Earl of Devonshire: Her brother, heir to the title Marquess of Clare. Two years older, the two are inseparable and known to be looking out for each other in all things. Now with him at court, Lucrezia seems a little steadier, a little more sociable. What that means for the two siblings in court, only time will tell, but reputation has it that nothing misses them when they work in tandem.

Prince Otto, Crown Prince of the Andechs: Lucrezia thinks of him as one of her dearest, nearest friends. As close as a man and a woman can be friends, anyway. She feels safe, secure around him, able to speak without fearing she would be condescended to. On some days, she catches herself thinking about him more often than  not. Leo just thinks she’s in denial. She is, but she’d rather lose an arm than admit it - or lose standing with someone she holds dear to her.

Doña Blanca, Duchess of Feria: The woman who showed her into Tudor court when Lucrezia first arrived, she is bereft without her dear friend. She misses Blanca often, having been through thick and thin, and wonders if her friend is safe - and living life the best she can, despite what happened to Princess Catherine and the Spaniards in the aftermath.

Prince Magnus, Crown Prince of Sweden: Lucrezia counts him as an unusual presence, and an equally unusual friend. Certainly not the kind Lucrezia thought she would make, but one she treasures. She appreciates his candour, his straightforward nature - and the alternative views he has, given his country’s rather unusual history.

Interests: Lady Avis, Lord Leopold, Prince Otto, Prince Magnus

Masquerade // Wedding

i. something old, something borrowed

Lucrezia had her needlework on her lap when she heard footsteps, as well as giggling. She bit back a smile - Leo, incorrigible as always, perhaps charming the women around him as he made his way over. She had sent a missive asking for him, and the man would never keep her waiting. She filled out a little more of the lion she was working on, regarded the design thoughtfully, and was about to stitch a new line when the door to the balcony opened.

Leo stepped in, bravado and swagger, accompanied by at least two other women hanging off his every word. They shrank back when they saw Lucrezia, but Leo was Leo - he was never deterred. He swaggered into the room, bombast, confidence, sweeping an elegant bow as he took his leave of his company. She smiled.

“Thank you, mistress,” she said, voice carrying over the quiet. Her maid curtsied, and left the room, leaving her with her brother. Her brother fell quiet as the doors closed behind him, and took in the scene. His brow furrowed.

“Chess, sister?”

“Not even a hello?” Her tone was teasing, the words light, playful. Leo rolled his eyes, and threw himself into the chair across her.

“I didn’t know you played.”

“Sometimes. I needed a chess partner.”

“And so you ask me, sister?”

“I thought so. I have yet to spend time properly with you this week.” She hummed, pricking another stitch into canvas. “Your companions at court say you play reasonably well.”

“Still, this is a surprise. I don’t recall our tutors teaching you this game.” As he said so, he leant forward, beginning to arrange the board.

“A friend at court taught me.” She watched Leo out of the corner of her eye, careful not to prick herself. “I haven’t played in a while, and while you may tease me, at least you won’t hold it over my head.”

“Like the same way you hold my courting attempts over mine?”

“Only so you learn from it, brother dearest. For the last time, a pelt is a good enough gift if you fashion it into clothing, not freshly processed…”

“That was once, Luca!” Leo protested, mock-anguish clear in his voice.

“And then there was the time you presented her with that awful flower wreath -”

“In my defence, I had nary the time to even look at what the dratted gardener had picked -”

“And then the other time you pawned off my book as a present -”

“An accident! I didn’t know you’d scribbled all over yours!”

“Annotated, Leo. It’s difficult enough to read certain tracts without it going missing in the night.”

“I bought you a new copy, and a better translated one too.” Leo sighed, leaning back in the chair as Lucrezia set down her needlework. “Besides, now that we’re here again, I do have my trusty, lovely sister to guide me through.”

Lucrezia sighed, dragging her chair forward to better look at the board. “Which of us is the older again?”

Leo considered that question, tapping his thumb on his chin. “Does it matter? We ought to have been born twins.”

Lucrezia did laugh then. “That would be amusing. Black or white?”

Her brother chose white; Lucrezia chose black. Don Fernando had warned her about this, in that year past, before the English sweat took him: playing defensively was hard, and she had to regain her ground while guarding her own pieces. The two played in silence for a while, nothing but the sound of chess pieces clacking on the board, watching, reacting. After a while, however, Leo broke it.

“Looking forward to the new arrivals?”

Lucrezia hummed, as she captured one of his pieces. Leo frowned, staring at the newest configuration on the board, before he made his move.

“Some I’ve already met. You’ve met Prince Magnus, of course, along with His Grace Prince Otto. But the others…” She looked up. “I heard we had a delegation from the Ottoman Empire. That, and Her Majesty has a new Mistress of the Robes.”

“I’ve heard.”  Leo grinned. “Her Grace, the Duchess of Loamshire. Widowed, last I heard, but she has determination.”

“Wits, or otherwise?”

“Both.” Leo rolled another chesspiece between his fingers, then pushed another forward. “She has been making discreet enquiries, I’ve heard.”

“Discreet enough to be picked up by you, dear brother.”

Leo shrugged, as Lucrezia moved yet another piece. “Mother and Father were doing the same for you before you arrived at the Tudor court. No one knows what.”

“The winds, what to expect. A little like you going into battle.”

“Going into battle is far, far more exciting. You ought to try it sometime.”

Lucrezia coughed, caught between amusement and shock.

“Could you imagine me in the battlefield?”

As she said that, she deftly captured a knight, and placed it on her side of the board. Leo rolled his eyes, then considered the image. The two siblings held that a moment longer, before Leo snorted.

“It would be glorious to see you in full plate armour. We ought to get Father to commission you one, then you can ride out in battle.”

“You and your imagination, Leopold.” A small smile tugged at Lucrezia’s lips, as she considered the image. Riding sidesaddle was fun - albeit a little unsteady, but to subject her poor horse to riding sidesaddle while fully armoured…. That did not bear thinking about.

“Of course not.” Leo looked rueful. “Imagine the scandal.”

“Imagine if a woman did ride out to battle.”

“To inspire the English armies to go to war?” Leo was smiling again. “We might be on the brink of one soon enough, the Spaniards are still smarting from the grave insult.”

“The Spaniards and the Roman Catholic Church. But the English court is making the world sit up and take notice.”

“Hence the new arrivals. And the new presentations.”

By this point, Leo had taken several of Lucrezia’s pieces, but Lucrezia was not deterred. Not particularly, at any rate. She snapped up another of his pawns, and waited for him to make a start.

“You sound delighted at the prospect.”

“As I know you are, too. Although I had not expected Lady Mary Boleyn to return, so soon after…”

“Brother.”

Leo shrugged. “The doors are thick enough, and there is no one save the two of us.”

“I would not risk it.” Lucrezia’s eyes narrowed, as Leo set another of his pieces down with a decisive click. “The Boleyn’s star is in the ascendant, and it has sent many of their old enemies scattering. We will not have our family put in their sights.”

“Short of you stealing His Majesty’s attention, we will be just fine.” Leo’s smile curled again, this time a hint of teasing coming into his expression. “I am more worried about the new enemies we will get before we set foot into Bavaria again.”

“Brother, it will not happen, and you know it as well as I do.”

Leo hummed, still smiling, but he said nothing more. Lucrezia frowned at her brother, not sure where that had come from -  he had given her no end of teasing ever since the fateful joust last month. She knew well enough Prince Otto riding into the joust with her favour had not gone unnoticed, but fortune was kind. Or not so, if you were to view it differently. After all, the King had been injured, and his closest friend had lost an eye to the matter. That was misfortune alone - but it also meant that the remarks about Prince Otto carrying her favour had faded to a dull, quiet noise in the background.

Lucrezia was grateful for it, at any rate: only a year here, and she did not know enough or have enough allies or friends to keep her out of trouble. Her closest friend, after all, had been Lady Blanca, and she had left as soon as Princess Katherine’s divorce had been finalised. She would not test her connections - nor put her friends at risk. That much she knew, no matter how much the game here was played.

“… And I believe, sister, that is a stalemate.”

Lucrezia looked at the board, surprise running through her. But Leo was correct: neither had any moves left, at least not one that would result in a capture of a piece. Neither had Lucrezia, upon closer analysis of the situation. She let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding, relaxing in her seat. Her brother, however, was smiling - small, thoughtful, none of the joviality that he often exhibited at court.

“Well done.”

She shrugged.

“I had a good teacher once.”

Leo hummed, having no response to it. He knew of Don Fernando, through Lucrezia’s letters. As time went by, it ebbed further and further. Court life moved on without him - she could only be glad that he wasn’t around to see how rapidly things deteriorated at the Tudor court. It might’ve broken his heart.

“And you will have more teachers to come.” Leo got to his feet, staring out at the view beyond the balcony below. “Well. Time to gather our wits and put on our best manners - we don’t want to disgrace our parents while they are away, do we?”

ii. vantage point

“Mistress Girault.”

Lucrezia looked up from her translation, setting down her ink and quill to see a shy-looking girl outside her door, eyes darting nervously around. She tried to remember who it was - then it clicked. One of the newer attendants, having arrived with the new season. She just about remembered the girl’s name, but strictly speaking, she did outrank her.

Still, she was brought up better than that, and she had her courtesies. So instead, she stood up, smiling pleasantly.

“Yes, mistress?”

“Her Grace, the Duchess of Loamshire is asking for you in one of the drawing rooms.”

Lucrezia paused, then the words sank in. The Duchess of Loamshire? She frowned, getting to her feet. Was something the matter? Last time she’d seen her, they were in the chapel reading from the new English Bible. It was something strange to behold, having been so used to reading the Vulgate that seeing English had been a shock when she first opened its pages. She hadn’t been asked to entertain Her Majesty the Queen either.

Likelier, however, was the fact that she wished to speak to every lady-in-waiting, however briefly. That Lucrezia could understand: the Duchess was taking the reins from Lady Willoughby d’Eresby, and if she were to manage the rotating roster of ladies-in-waiting, she would need to speak with each of them individually. Best not to keep her waiting.

With that thought in mind, she swept out of the room, following the attendant, and was led to one of the smaller rooms in the palace. Lucrezia was duly announced, and she was met by the Duchess, accompanied by a few of her own attendants. The two women curtsied to each other, and the older noblewoman gestured to the seat across her.

“Is there something I may assist Your Grace with?” Lucrezia asked, gathering her skirts and positioning them as orderly as she could. Her Grace only smiled, shaking her head.

“Only the pleasure of your company, Mistress Girault.” Her Grace gestured to the spread before her. “Eat - we will not need to attend to Her Majesty the Queen for a while.”

Lucrezia fought to keep the frown off her face, doing as she was told. The Duchess's smile was friendly, polite, one she had seen on enough of the courtiers when they were meeting a stranger for the first time. That wasn't so far from the truth: yes, Her Grace was the Mistress of the Robes, but she had not spoken to Lucrezia before.

"It's been a while since I have been at the Tudor Court," Her Grace began, as the attendants began to pour them their drinks. Lucrezia spared the drink a sidelong glance, curious, but her attentions were on the woman before her, watching her as closely as Lucrezia did in return.

"I'm afraid I am no better than you are, Your Grace," Lucrezia said, voice light, smiling. "I arrived a mere year earlier than you did before, and mine was a late arrival."

"Why is that so, Mistress Girault?"

"My late arrival?" Lucrezia shrugged. "I was at the Bavarian courts before, and arrangements meant I could not join the new season immediately when it started. I am fortunate that no one took offence."

It was schooling that stopped Lucrezia from saying "Her Majesty the Queen" - because the Dowager Princess of Wales (a strange title, tripping in her mind, over her tongue) was person non grata now, and she certainly had not been acquainted with the present Queen. If Lady Avis found the wording strange, she made no mention of it. Instead, her smile remained just as companionable, her eyes just as steady.

"Still, it is more advantageous - you have more experience with this court than I have." The noblewoman sipped at her drink, at ease. "I trust you will have more news about this court than I do."

To Her Grace's credit, she sounded perfectly curious, even - an enquiry. One might even have believed it, if it were anyone else but the Duchess of Loamshire. In fairness, Lucrezia also had the benefit of Leopold Girault, who people seemed naturally drawn to gossiping around.

Her Majesty the Queen would not have brought a stranger from the French Court in Paris if she didn't have some backbone, some expertise in this game.

"Only what most people know," Lucrezia said finally, settling on safer ground. "There is a sea of change, after His Majesty's Great Matter, and that there are new arrivals from all over. Beyond that, I am afraid I have no head for politicking or alliances among countries."

"So I have heard." Her Grace sat back in her chair, and Lucrezia felt her gaze sharpen, as if scrutinising Lucrezia from head to toe. "You are acquainted with the newcomers, I take it?"

"I know their faces and their titles, but I have yet to meet a good deal of them." Lucrezia folded her hands in her lap, gripping them tightly so not to betray her nerves. This was an idle, friendly chat - why was she feeling so on edge? "Especially the newest ones this season. But I have my duties, and I have my horseriding and my books. If I meet them, it will be with time. And you, Your Grace? You speak as if you have already met them."

"Her Majesty the Queen keeps interesting company." A pause. "But likewise, I have yet to have the pleasure. Some I have met before - but there are several strange faces in the crowd."

"But as His Majesty has announced - there will be a hunt soon, and half the court will go. We will meet them, soon enough."

"I am sure." There was a break in the conversation, and Lucrezia took the chance to finally, finally sip at her drink. Cider, she realised, the apple-tang and tartness seeping down her throat. That in itself was a surprise: she had expected the usual small ale, or some wine. Not that it was an unwelcome surprise, but...

Lucrezia buried that thought. She did not need to start reading into everything in this conversation.

"And what of yourself? You sound to be an avid rider."

"Only because I have a biddable steed. Etha is a sweet, pliant creature - I will take her with me for the hunt, I think, but only to wander the forests."

"You have no stomach for the hunt, I take it."

"I have no stomach for anything cruel, Your Grace. I admire the skill, the sportsmanship, but it is not for me."

"The last season must have been distressing for you then?"

That was perhaps the most forward question Her Grace had asked her this whole time. Lucrezia's mind reacted accordingly: the drop of her heart to her stomach, whatever ease she might have slipped into gone in that instant. She could not lie to Her Grace, because the woman would see through it in an instant. But Her Grace was neither Leo, nor her usual confidants. She had the ear of Her Majesty the Queen - all these things stacking up.

"It is in the past, Your Grace," she said finally. "Whether it distressed me is irrelevant - it is a matter of state, not gossip. Though I will say, it was fascinating to watch a thousand religious experts spring up overnight."

"Hardly surprising, but surely you  must exaggerate.”

"Perhaps, but forgive me - that was all the court could speak of, Your Grace. I think the priests must have been delighted by the newfound piety.”

That brought a smile to Her Grace’s face, and she seemed content to let the topic slide. For the rest of the hour, all Lucrezia came away feeling was that the woman was less asking her about the happenings at the Tudor Court and more confirming what she knew. As if she were confirming what she had heard - or something else. Assessing what she was? When the conversation was done and she was dismissed, she wondered what the Duchess made of her - and what impression she had of her at first.

iii. the green grove

The next week brought the newcomers to court. It was strange to observe: Lucrezia stood with the other remaining ladies-in-waiting, Leo a few steps, hidden among the courtiers. If she’d arrived earlier last season, she would’ve been among the throng too - but fate had other ideas, and she arrived just as the Capture of the Virtues happened.

So far away. So distant. And now here she was, about to meet a new group of women who would in turn be Her Majesty’s retinue. What did that make her?

But once the newcomers were settled in, the season began in earnest. The first event of the year was the hunt, where they had been asked to attend. Ask was putting it mildly - there was no ask when it came to these events hosted by His and Her Majesty, even if Lady Avis had mentioned it like they had a choice. Lucrezia knew that well enough. So instead, she packed her riding skirt, brought enough treats for Etha, and joined the women in camping near the forests. Well, they said it was camping - in truth it was closer to a small military encampment sprung up, with as much of the luxury the hunting lodge could afford them.

Leo, of course, she could spot a mile away, surrounded by his companions and sat atop Toric, gleaming and proud. She’d waved him off, every bit the sweet, dutiful sister for the world to see - then joined the observation party atop of Etha, grateful that whatever was going on, she was not in the thick of the hunt itself.

Lucrezia had heard Her Majesty had gone out hunting with the men - her own horse, her own bow and arrow, and a fine pack of hunting dogs of her own. Given that the Queen and a few of her trusted confidantes were nowhere in attendance, Lucrezia could only take that rumour as it was: a little juicy tidbit, tossed in with the rest of the gossip swimming in the waters.

Even if it weren't true, there was a little grain of fact in it: ever since the divorce, His Majesty and Her Majesty were for all intents and purposes acting the part of an enamoured couple, always side-by-side. There was love there, that much was clear. Love, and lust, as one disdainful Roman Catholic priest had spat to his fellow clergymen when he thought he was out of earshot. Lucrezia had not seen the man again.

Still, there was a smaller part of her that thought the King and Queen had something to prove too: to spite the Roman Catholic church, to demonstrate that they were at peace despite the Pope's excommunication. What better way to do so than to carry on as they did, making the Tudor court the place artists, musicians, scholars, and poets flocked to?

Those thoughts she kept to herself. Instead, she rode alongside another lady-in-waiting, keeping Etha at an ambling pace, listening to the hunting horn muffled by dense foilage, along with the distant shout. There was crashing, branches being snapped - and then it went quiet again, save for the occasional chirp of a yet-to-be-disturbed bird in the distance. She felt, rather than heard Etha snort, and unconsciously stroked her horse's mane.

No need to give up her lovely steed - she was not fit for hunt. Riding, yes, but she doubted she could stomach the sight of any animal with multiple arrows sticking out of their hide. Even if she did enjoy the spoils afterwards at the banquet.

Fortunately, the route Lucrezia's party took was more idyllic, far away from whatever pursuits the men had in mind. Spring meant leaf buds sprouting and flowers poking their heads out from beneath the grass, while the air smelled of green and the still-damp soil underfoot. She even glimpsed a few rocky outcroppings, leading to higher vantage points. Nothing like the mountains she'd seen in the Bavarian court, but it was still - charming. Yes, that was the word.

Their party rejoined the main campgrounds when sun set. Now a chill had begun to set in, and some of the courtiers were huddled together in groups, gathered around the bonfires to warm themselves - and for light. Out here in the forest, even with the tents and the servants and the fires, it lent an eerie atmosphere, shadows and branches swaying back and forth. Perhaps this was why devils and demons and spirits came out - hiding in the shadows, enough to -

There was a great roar, and Lucrezia almost jumped out of her skin. She turned her head in time to see the King return, everyone jumping to their feet to dispense the proper courtesies. It seemed they had returned flush with success: she spotted at least two carcasses, but she could not make out what they were in the dark. People were beginning to swarm the retinue, but it seemed the hunters had returned in high spirits.

Of course, Her Majesty the Queen was by His Majesty the King's side. That would be Lucrezia's cue then: she dusted off her dress, and stepped into place discreetly. By virtue of her experience, she was no longer at the very back of the retinue - somewhere in front, closer to Lady Avis and the Queen's confidants, but no more. All eyes on them, Lucrezia remembered, and kept a soft, placid smile on her face.

Sweet. Quiet. Unthreatening. No need to attract attention, with so many newcomers watching.

They were dismissed shortly after dinner, allowed to wander amongst the tents, to listen to the court musicians. Some were brave enough to start dancing, laughing and singing in the fiery glow cast by the bonfires. Lucrezia, for her part, was nursing some weak ale when she felt a presence beside her. A turn, and she saw His Grace, Prince Magnus, looking at her contemplatively.

"Your Grace," she greeted, curtsying. His Grace inclined his head, indicating the spot next to her.

"May I?"

"You are always welcome company, Your Grace."

"You may be some of the few who mean it," His Grace said, stepping easily into position. She did mean it, Lucrezia felt, but she would not voice it aloud. Instead, she hid her smile behind a sip of drink, and opted for slightly safer waters amongst the throng of people.

"Compared to the new company here?" She cast her glance around. "So many new faces. I admit, I am at a loss with some of them."

"All are well-reputed, if you worry about those things Mistress Girault." His smile turned a little sharper. "It should for make an interesting season, with the French and the Turks milling around."

"You seem well-acquainted with them, Your Grace."

"After a fashion." His Grace looked contemplative. "Their reputation precedes them - but I have met a few. Your new Mistress of Robes, the Duchess of Loamshire, for example - we are acquainted, after a fashion."

That was news to Lucrezia. She'd known Her Majesty the Queen had met and known the Duchess, but not His Grace. She processed the information, and nodded.

"She is formidable, I think. To be widowed and yet command such respect." She paused. "Little wonder Her Majesty the Queen asked her to return."

"Why is that, Mistress Girault?"

Lucrezia took another sip of her drink, considered her words and present company.

"Your Grace, if you had a widow with large swathes of land, a title, and respect, would you have let her remain as she was?"

"In Sweden, perhaps, if there was reason to." The man's smile was still there, still sharp. "Do you think she will remain like this for long?"

I hope she does, Lucrezia thought to herself. A Queen might not be able to remain unmarried, nor a King - but a capable duchess might. But those were unusual circumstances, and these were unusual times. So instead, she opted for another smile.

"Perhaps we will know by the number of suitors griping after their suit fails."

That got a chuckle out of His Grace, his eyes warm.

"We shall see, Mistress Girault. I am of half the mind that most of court are seeking new marital prospects - if not alliances."

Lucrezia did laugh then. “Your Grace, you don’t need someone like me to confirm that. Half of the court are unmarried, the highest-ranking nobles and aristocrats gathered here. Alliances can be made in plenty ways, but marriage happens to be the…” She trailed off, fumbling for words.

“Simplest?” His Grace supplied, and Lucrezia bit back another smile.

“I dare not say that, Your Grace. I believe the council are at the tail end of The King’s Great Matter.”

“My lady, is this truly the time to bring it up?”

Lucrezia watched His Grace evenly, wondering if she had been too free, if she’d overstepped. But the man looked solemn, sincere, with a hint of a smile. So instead, she tipped her mug of ale at him, and sipped instead.

“I think I might look forward to this season and what it brings,” she said, the warmth of the fire fighting off the spring chill. The Prince nodded his assent, and soon, their attentions were called away to other people, other courtiers - and in Lucrezia’s case, her duties as lady-in-waiting.

Lucrezia hadn’t lied - she was looking forward to this new season, with the grounding Leo would bring. But something didn’t sit right: this was too soon, too happy, too - bright. Surely nothing would come to pass. Truly?

iv. courage

There were very few situations in life where Lucrezia found herself struck dumb like the blasphemers of old. If there was one thing Lucrezia could pride herself on, the very least, it was her ability to keep her mouth shut whenever she needed it, whenever it was best to be seen, or when she needed to blunt whatever statement she’d made earlier on. As it turned out, it was something she could do with ease around the Tudor Court.

It wasn’t hard to be wary of the courtiers around her, after all - not after she’d seen how fast the faces changed and countenances turned after Princess Catherine’s fall from grace. Not with how volatile the court here was, and the King’s mood seemed even worse, more mercurial ever since that awful, awful accident with Lord Surrey.

If she did fail on several fronts, it was around those she came to trust. Even then, it was a risky, fraught business. She could count those she trusted with one hand, and then she’d lost one to the English sweat, and the other to politics. Now, with her beloved, foolhardy Leo with her, she had one more person to worry about suffering the immediate consequences. What would she do, if her slips cost not only her family, but Leo’s head as well?

But that was neither here nor there. What was here right now was the man standing opposite her, a respectful distance away, waiting for her answer. He was far too stiff, compared to the easy companionship she’d come to appreciate, to become accustomed to. If pressed, she might even admit she craved it at times, hoping she could keep that going for a little longer.

“Could - could you sit down, Your Grace?” she asked, finally finding her voice. “I - I dare not speak to you when you are standing.”

His Grace, Prince Otto, Crown Prince of the Andechs and Count of Burgundy, obliged her, and he moved with the same formality she’d first known him with. Here, now, he was the same prince he was dealing with nobility, politics, council. God, she hated how rigid he was, and wanted nothing more than to reach out, touch him, watch him relax into the person she knew buried underneath all that decorum. But it would be inappropriate, because she did not know how to respond, because of how her mind was blank right now.

Who knew somewhere in between the hunting and the upcoming wedding, she would end up in a conversation like this? Her day had started simply enough: play the harpsichord for Her Majesty the Queen, do some blackwork, and then steal away for some light reading.

Except some light reading led her to the library, where His Grace had found her, and now -

She took a breath, trying to calm her traitorous, pounding heart, to string together a response that didn’t consist of floundering or that deep-ingrained instinct to say exactly why this - all of this - was a terrible, beautiful, wonderful idea.

Practicalities. She could deal with those first. If she could stop panicking and -

“Your - you -”

She had been educated by some of the best tutors in the land. She could speak English, German, read Latin, speak smatterings of French, and nothing in the world could fill the blank her mind had become. Oh, God have mercy, where was Leo when she needed him?

Something left in her etiquette and court manners filled in the gaps, and she finally strung enough words together to form a coherent enquiry.

“You have written your - your brother, His Majesty?”

His Grace’s smile was mild, stiff - the stuff of pleasantries, not the quiet conversations they had when they could steal away, Lucrezia with one of her trusted maids, His Grace with his courtier. They were closer, Lucrezia thought, her keeping enough of a veneer of civility and good manners to pretend she wasn’t sorting through feelings and her thoughts as they spoke. She missed that smile. She rather wished he did smile like he used to, because it would make things - easier.

“I did not wish to write until I was - certain.”

The words were matter-of-fact, but it was measured. She wondered if this was what he was like in the council: calm, certainty masking everything else.

Lucrezia could not read him. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to - whether she wanted to presume further, imagine things that she had spent the better part of several months convincing herself it hadn’t been true, hadn’t been possible.

“Certain of, Your Grace?”

Her voice was quiet, but she liked to think she was able to keep the waver in her voice. For the first time in a very long while, His Grace looked at her, blue eyes unwavering, as if watching for her reaction

“Of -” He paused, looking for the words. “Where we stand.”

His words hung there, heavy in the still spring air. Lucrezia felt as if she couldn't breathe, as if something was constricting her throat. Where they stood. Where she stood.

No, that was a lie in itself. She knew exactly where she stood with His Grace, between idle daydreams and beating the daydreams back to where they belonged. People were noticing - Leo was mostly the one to bother her with it, giving her lopsided smirks and knowing looks whenever the Prince was so much within walking distance to her. She tried not to pay heed to what the others said about her, in that heady and distracting mix of intrigue, politics, gossip.

Yet to say it - to give voice to those thoughts -

Perhaps what frightened her most was how this was about to change things between them irreparably. If she admitted the truth, then they could no longer exist in this comfortable ease of confidants; but if she lied, she might not have forgiven herself either. Lies, even to protect herself, were a sin. That much she remembered, over the pounding of her heart, the rush of blood in her ears.

"Because - I care for you. More than a friend ought to, more than a friend should." A small smile crept onto her face, affectionate, quavering. "But I always thought - worried if I was too forward, too much, and might -" She paused, trying to find the words. She found none, because 'scare you off' was a slight at best, and she had some tact left in her to stop silly things from spilling out of her.

"I have no words, Your Grace," she said finally, wanting nothing more than to draw herself in, find some way to avert that steely, burning gaze. She hadn't known the Prince to be capable of such a look, and yet here he was - and she was pinned to the bench by it. "Only to cast myself at your mercy."

"A good thing then," His Grace said finally, and she saw the stiffness in him recede, something akin to the warmth she had grown accustomed to seep into him again. "I had no intention of leaving you cold, but if you did not reciprocate -"

Lucrezia finally laughed, the noise breaking out of her. It was something caught between relief and - release. The anxiety breaking, trapped too long in her.

"Your Grace, I spent the better part of the month reminding myself that I had an overactive imagination."

"You shouldn't have." His hand had found hers, fingers brushing lightly across her knuckles, soothing, tender. "Perhaps I ought to have made my offer earlier then, had I known what you felt."

If Lucrezia were drinking and had poorer manners, she might've spat out something right there and then.

"Your Grace?"

"An offer for your hand." His smile turned contemplative, but he never pulled away, fingers now laced through hers.

“I can’t imagine that passing without any objection.” Lucrezia kept her tone soft, light, but she wasn’t a fool: he was a Crown Prince, her simply a daughter of a Marquess - nobility, yes, but if her recollections of the Bavarian court were as accurate as she remembered…

“No. But my brother is likely to ask for me to return, with the Tudor court as it is - and I would like to take you back with me.”

“You would have to ask my family first, Your Grace.”

“You think they will allow it?”

Lucrezia smiled. That she could answer easily enough.

“My mother would be delighted. Father - he may have some political concerns, but he would consider it a good match.”

“And your brother?”

“Leo has my best interests at heart.” Her smile grew wider, fonder. “He will be insufferable and mope about how mama and papa will want him to have a good match - but he will be alright. It is not my side of the family you should worry about, Your Grace.”

“I am keenly aware, my lady. But would you still agree, given what you know?”

“I - ” She tried to parse the sentence in her head, caught like a deer in a hunter’s sight because - God, she wanted to, because all emotion aside this would be a good match, and so rarely could someone in her position overlap emotion and love and fondness and interest, and -

She breathed, breaking her rambling thoughts. She needed to answer. No, she had her answer. All she had to do was to say it.

“Then I have made several enemies in Bavaria, even before I set foot back there again.”

“And why is that, Lady Lucrezia?”

Did she want to say it? Saying it made - would make - this real. All of this. Those strange, heartsick feelings that had only grown over the past months with every interaction, how her mind remembered every brush, every glance, every word she spoke to him. There would be contracts, gifts, announcements, all the usual formalities. It was all well and good for nobility to be engaged to each other, yes, but this - he was -

And there would be all that politicking in England and in Bavaria. She did not want to imagine that. Not in the slightest, because this would ruin that bubble of joy threatening to warm her from inside out.

“… Accepting will strip Bavaria of one of the most eligible bachelors in the land.”

The Prince huffed. “They will survive the blow.”

She hadn’t seen the Prince smile like that before. It wasn’t wide, it wasn’t beaming, but it was warm, warmer than she’d ever seen. His eyes held hers, seeing her as if she were the only thing that mattered here and now.

But she did, didn’t she? She mattered enough for him to ask to meet her regularly, enough for him to ask to court her. It didn’t matter if she was some marquess’s daughter, that she wasn’t Hochadel, nor did she have to concern herself with the Andechs’ matrimonial rules. Those she did not recall, and was not privy to. To the Prince, she mattered enough for - this.

Was this what relief felt like?  A smile was beginning to blossom on her face too.

“So you -”

“I am. Yes. It would - I would - nothing would -” She coughed, colour flooding her cheeks as she stopped trying to embarrass herself. “ I cannot speak, Your Grace. But yes, I am.”

If it were any other person, they might have laughed, clapped, hooted, or even dared to press a kiss to her lips. But this was the Prince, and so he drew her closer, tucking on of her hands in his, and contented himself by trailing his thumb on her cheek. The thumb left a burning trail in its wake, and did nothing for Lucrezia when all she wanted to do was -

“So… what now, Your Grace?” she asked, voice tremulous to her own ears.

“A few formalities, and an announcement. Beyond that, very little, save I am at liberty to come see you in your rooms without half the court gossiping.”

She laced her fingers through his, and smiled faintly.

“Are you certain, Your Grace? This announcement will increase gossip tenfold.”

“It will be expected.”

And it was so simple when he said it. He had that gift, strangely, making things simple. She had no doubt the Prince had the mind for intrigue. He could and was perhaps more capable at it than she could aspire to be. After all, he worked in the King’s council, knew and heard more than she ever could given her gender and her station. But if he deemed it simple, Lucrezia could almost set aside her worries, and believe it to be too.

His Grace, however, was oblivious to those thoughts, and instead looked as if he had something else to say. Eventually, he broke the silence.

“The other thing that must change is -”

“Yes?”

“You ought to use my name, if we are to be husband and wife.”

Lucrezia opened her mouth, closed it, and felt her cheeks begin to redden. Could she? Dare she? But His Grace was looking so expectantly at her, so she dragged up the last remnants of her bravery, so sapped from all this talk, and tried for -

“Otto?”

The answer she had in return was a kiss pressed to her knuckles, hiding a smile behind them.

“Yes, Lucrezia?”

This was patently unfair. She could not say his name without stuttering, and here he was, saying it as perfectly as anyone had the right to. He’d drawn closer to her, still an appropriate distance away, but he would not let go of her hand. They sat there in silence, Lucrezia still reeling from all she’d said, she’d heard, when a thought occurred to her -

“I believe I am more looking forward to Lord Devonshire’s spluttering later on when I inform him exactly what conversation I’ve had.”

That earned her another smile, both his hands now covering hers. It was quiet, save for the thundering of her heart and the dizzying possibilities opening up of what she could do, where she could be seen with him, and what it meant. If she were braver, she’d lean in closer, press her forehead against his. But fortunately - or not - she had some modicum of self-preservation left in her. She’d have her chance later - that much she knew.

v. flowers and confessions

The wedding was - lovely. Lucrezia meant it in every sense of the word, to see Lady Eleanor be wed to the Baron of Steeton, very much in love. There was dancing, of course, revelry, sweetmeats and wine. Lucrezia even ordered a new gown for the wedding, pale blues and whites, rustling in the palace in silks.

Her and Leo were, of course, had matched colours: Lucrezia was in her pale blues and dark blues and whites; Leo was in navy blue and white, on his best behaviour, socialising, joking around, drawn to a good time as he always was.

At one point, she ran into His Grace, Prince Otto (Otto, her mind reminded her, it still felt so strange to address him so familiarly), his mood clearly buoyant. He was as reserved, solemn as he were, but his eyes were soft when he caught sight of her. They danced once together, stayed close to each other for a while amongst the wedding guests.

Now, finally free to admit what she felt, to be together - she had never been so grateful nor keenly aware of his warmth, how close he was. They still had their decorum, and His Grace had never been the type of man to be openly affectionate, but there were - moments. His hand finding hers, lacing through them, warm, solid; Lucrezia standing closer to him, close enough to brush against him, if she so chose.

It was almost enough to make Lucrezia forget - and for her to jump when a young serving girl came up to her, saying that she had a missive for “Lady Lucrezia”. She accepted it, and all lightness went with it as she took the piece of paper in her hand.

Around her, party guests were laughing, mingling, dancing. Lucrezia only needed to take one look to recognise the Latin - and the handwriting. The gardens, was it? She tucked the piece of paper away, and ambled off to the large, overgrown hedges, where she knew more than one couple had stolen away.

She wasn’t here for His Grace - she was here for a friend.

It didn’t take her long to spot the newcomer, though newcomer was a poor name for it. Lady Blanca was still as proud, as resplendent as she last remembered her being, but the moment she saw the Spaniard, her heart leapt into her throat.

“You shouldn’t be here!” Lucrezia hissed, forgoing all etiquette and civility in favour of worry. Lady Blanca smiled, shaking her head. The veil was enough to hide her, and the clothes she wore today weren’t as rich she had once worn - but it was well-tailored, elegant, and no one would be able to miss the fine fabrics she wore.

“I promised I’d see you, Lady Lucrezia.” The woman grasped her hands warmly, all smiles. The warmth and mirth was genuine, all there, but even Lucrezia could see the weariness, the exhaustion around her eyes. “A wedding with friends and family and strangers - this was the best time to arrive.”

“How did you get from Spain to here so quickly?”

“I never left,” Lady Blanca said, words soft, as if she were in confessional, and Lucrezia’s blood turned to ice in her veins.

“But - if His Majesty finds out -”

“I won’t be long, I promise. I only need a little time to shelter -”

“I’m not saying you should leave, - God knows I wish I could keep you safe, but if his courtiers caught wind…”

“I am being careful, I promise.” Lady Blanca’s smile dimmed, as if reminded of her predicament. “And England is safer for me than going back to Spain.”

Lucrezia blinked.

“Safer?”

“You have heard of what happened to our former queen?”

She wracked her brains, trying to remember what court gossip she might have picked up of Spain. When she came back blank, Lady Blanca seemed to know - she took pity on her, and explained.

“She’s been imprisoned,” Lady Blanca said, voice no louder than a murmur. “Joanna of Aragon has been accused of madness, and the king has been sending suitors my way to see if I soften.”

Lady Blanca didn’t need to say anything more - Lucrezia still remembered those conversations shortly after the Great Matter, the woman’s fears, worries. She had expressed admiration for the Duchess of Loamshire for staying single for so long, and she had known it would be difficult. But she hadn’t expected Lady Blanca to be gangpressed into this.

“Thus you’re staying - here. In England?”

“For a while. I have a home, so I am not adrift - but I am biding my time, until I hear otherwise - or my allies reassure me it is safe to go home.”

Lucrezia reflected, frowning. “It could be a while.”

“But at least I am more familiar with England,” Lady Blanca countered. “I still have some true friends here, and it gives me a little room to breathe. To think, without having noblemen professing they have come to admire me from afar.”

Despite herself, Lucrezia snorted.

“Is that how uncreative they have become?”

Lady Blanca smiled, despite her weariness.

“You should read the collection of letters I have amassed, it might give you some measure of joy.”

“When I can visit,” Lucrezia promised, because she didn’t want to think of it as an if, but a when. Despite everything, there was a part of her that liked to think maybe one day, she would be able to see Lady Blanca again, without having to sneak around, without the awful aftermath hanging over their heads. “You still have your horse, your sword with you?”

“You do not need to worry, Lady Lucrezia, I am well-provided for.” Lady Blanca squeezed her hand, warmth and affection. “It’s only been a few months, and I have several more. What I have heard, however, is there are several delegates at play?”

Lucrezia tried her best to bring Lady Blanca up to speed: who she’d seen, what had been happening, who their newest arrivals were. She skimmed over as much of the loving displays between the King and the Queen as much as she could - she was fairly sure Lady Blanca did not need to know - but she gave her the rest. Her brother Leo, back at court; the new arrivals from France; delegates from the Ottoman Empire.

She could’ve stayed there forever, like they were back when she first met Lady Blanca, before all this had happened. But they didn’t have forever, and Lady Blanca needed to steal away before anyone else realised her presence. So they went their separate ways: Lucrezia back to the wedding, Lady Blanca… slipping away to where she came. When Lady Blanca left, even with the spring weather, even with Leo sidling up to her and elbowing her, she felt very, very cold.

COMPLETE in a really rushed way

Last edited by Jadis (16/12/2020 at 17:02)

In a slow progress—
Name: Yılmaz Aynişah Hatun bint Vizer Evhad
Age: 19, December 3rd
Face claim: Esra Bilgiç
Interests: Malkocoglu Pasha, Lord Mathias, Lady Cressida, Lady Mary

what I know and doesn't yet

Personality traits:
Only legitimate child of Vizer Evhad, (has a bastard brother, loved dearly by the family) the title of their family be reverted to the crown once her father passes away, (mother already deceased and he never remarried) which is why she is at the court. Grew up rather spoiled in form of attention from her father; doesn't want marriage just all the privilege and glamour from court. Should care more about her reputation, (yet to learn the importance) courageous, fearless; amoral doesn't judge on "minor" incidents, frivolous lacks responsibility for her actions. Jovial, generous, tactless, restless, yearning to have more from life; her intelligence is fluctuating and heavily argued. Was betrothed before coming to court, ended in shambles; primary reason why her father insisted on her going.

Highly educated in languages, history, writing, reading, good with tactical games, was taught archery, hunting, some sword training for self defense purposes, riding. Used to running a household, (will pretend to be stupid if it gets her out of responsibilities) basic dancing, (halay is the one she spent most time on) loves playing the piano.

Demurcu — Cousin

country roads take me home

Fields of mist transformed into luscious, endless bounties of newly sprung grass, collecting fresh dew on their tips; the gloomy horizon caved at the sight of dawn, washing away echoes of sorrow bound in the midst. Demurcu darted a gaze with furrowed brows over his shoulder– often his gaze wandered, she wrote it off being a ghost of imagination. The beating of hooves, grave cymbals, stops in the early hours of the morning; starry nights had passed since they set out, with the weather on their side only another one to come.

The newly awakened wind carry Demurcu's humming across their resting ground; she picks the exotic flowers of this new country, weaving braids of luscious colors on the horse's manes, handled with care from when they were plucked from the ground– saving the last pale blue flower for the ear of her cousin.

"The soil might miss them, and they, their home," he muses over a kettle letting out steam when she lightly brushes it behind his ear.

"Withering in the ground of old age– now the world can gawk at their beauty and their seedlings be planted somewhere else along the way," she sits down by the improvised fire pit, - "now it gets to choose where to go."

"Kurabiye," honey nearly drips from his weathered lips, - "you ripped the roots" a sunflower seed crackled between teeth.
"Where would you want to go?" Aynî tilts her head, a tinge of mischievousness lining her voice, grasping the cup of tea handed to her; life had been a series of brick walls, while his had been mud on a battlefield and a room for studying.
"Living on the back of a horse becomes tedious, your body will ache– eventually bones phantom rattle from walking," he educates while fishing porridge into bowls, - “I would settle down.”
"Become a protestant and stay at court–" a snorting laugh cuts off,
"the world would swallow you," Demurcu chuckles, spoon twirling between calloused fingers, - “besides the streets of England reeks of piss.”

Church Bells chimed a sepulchral tune for their late arrival, cloaked with copper scent, racing against the closing curtains of the dark; Aynî has a tender laugh upon the gates, with the squeaking of a damaged carriage following them. - “I had a hunch, traversing these roads with you, something had to go wrong,” wrinkles and cracks in his hands were stained with red, the same color splotches on her own sleeve and pooled around a cut on her collar bone. Their last passage had been met with resistance, robbers or she wasn’t sure if they had a proper title for their profession? Demurcu glances over, catching her gaze, slowing their horse's pace down, - “all I ask is a sliver of caution while at court.”

“If you are lucky I might strike a match, and I won’t stand under your protection,”
“Firstly I am not lucky and second; no one will be crazy enough to take your hand,” she nods to his words, they had a truthful ring to them. A young woman, a servant girl came up to greet them with a curtsy, offering a stable hand to take their horses away which both politely declined; despite their exhaustion from the last leg of the journey they would rather tend to their own traveling companions — asking that their belongings be taken to their respective rooms and baths to be prepared. - “Certainly,” the young servant girl replied, disappearing in a haste.

The castle walls held an eerie silence, holding a past, presence, and future in an iron grip, had she not already been to France the architecture would have taken her by surprise — a few droplets linger on her skin when there’s a knock on the door.

“Hope I am not disturbing you,” Lady Mary’s features brighten the room, with a smile bees' would migrate for.
“No one would state such a bold claim against you,” the door creaks wide open, effortlessly the woman walks inside.
“Heard of your arrival, brought this for your wound,” slender hands offered a glass jar with white ointment, - “ladies shouldn’t walk around with scars,” Lady Mary pressed it into the girl’s hand.
“Thank you,” Aynî’s face splits open with a genuine smile, - “I am not sure which you are first kind or beautiful,” for a moment she forgets she’s in England and not France, - “would you like to take a walk with me? It’s a beautiful night outside and all the excitement of today has my legs jittering.”

A celestial sea brightens their path in the garden, the moon hangs low on the night sky ready to fall at their feet, they exchange the normal pleasantries, civil and with the softness expected from a woman; Aynî never expects to move with the grace Lady Mary could. Swaying from the topic of her late husband, seeing no purpose in bringing up old wounds, not when she wasn’t even certain of their arrangement; since some were the lucky few to marry for love.

"Were you frightened?" Lady Mary asks.
"No– are you?" eyes flickered, - "men who are capable of monstrous acts can be found anywhere," she added, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.
"They would be the true criminal? Whether they are or not– don't let them hear your thoughts." Mary whispered back with a half-smile.
"Well– I threw them a purse of coins before leaving, perhaps the next soul traversing by won't be bothered by them,"
"generous of you,"
"not really– I threw Demurcu's purse to them," she winked, laughter dripped out of their lips; perhaps she could feel at home here.

loyalty to the crown

She dives into silk when the morning rose, awoken by a chambermaid who unjustly took a pillow to the face; spring here was colder than back home, her body rigid in response.

"Does it hurt?" Aynî flinches, shawl flopping to the side of her head, Demurcu stands in her doorway; a ghostly apparition, she wonders if he had slept at all.

"Yes, it should pass," letting the silk slide off her head, thick, lengthy hair, she could cut it off and no one would notice; though gardeners got sick of weeding and still loved their flowers. - "Lady Mary lent me ointment," she turns in her chair.

"Mother sent me a letter of errands, babysit yourself for the day," he steps inside, reaching for the brush, - "make sure to send my gratitude to Lady Mary," she had pestered him for help with her hair when she was younger. Father loved Demurcu like a son, letting him stay for extended periods of time.

"Don't tell me to behave, you're the one with a guilty conscience," it's a playful jab yet his shoulder slouches.
"Just keep in mind embarrassing yourself here is nearly equal to a felony," there's a tug at the back of her head when he secures the silk, - "uncle should have reprimanded more for misbehavior– hand me the jewelry."

“Heard Malkocoglu Pasha is attending court, did you meet him last night?”
“No, I am yet unaware why he is here, thought marriage outside of the Ottoman empire is encourage for noble families,” he speaks casually as if reading from a script he fully hasn’t grasped yet, - “my parents didn’t marry out of love, most of them time my mother spends in France and my father back at home— nor did your parents.”
“I know—” she plays with the hem of the silk fabric, - “he says work occupied too much of his time to remarry, but he lies sometimes.”
“— he grew a conscience after you were born, I think he felt guilty for not loving your mother; it is out of love he sends you away,” she measures their silence in breaths, - “living in a harem isn’t what he intended for you.”
“It’d be fairly undisturbed– I could leisure all day, nor would I have to do many chores or worry about education.”
“We’ve deprived you of your dream life all along,” from the mirror she could see his grin.
“I always believed you to be the dreamer, wanting to marry out of love.”
“Father is putting the pressure on me, preferably I should marry a foreigner for status,” Demurcu lifts the mirror, showing off his beautiful handwork, - “you are ready to see the queen.”

Queen Anne’s melodic speech rings softer than the silk around her head, every word is chosen with care and dignity, she’s more balanced than any scale could comprehend; she’s the potential of the crown’s branches continuing to grow. From just a glimpse Aynî trembles, pure excitement, in awe of the competence women at court carried with them, a diaphanous air of violets fills her nostrils upon entering.

“Your Majesty–” Aynî loses her words, staying in a curtsy as she gazes up at the queen and laughs with a light heart, - “apologies I seem to be out of words today, which is a rare occasion– I feel blessed to be allowed in your presence,” there’s a crinkle between her eyebrows, she doesn’t know how to speak to a queen, no lessons had been taught; Queen Anne gives a reassuring smile.

“We are pleased to have you at our court Lady Yılmaz, and you’ve brought a companion for the occasion– any friends of the crown are welcome to stay at our court,” Queen Anne graciously, without effort, puts the conversation back.

“Thank you, your Majesty, rumors of your effortless charm does not do you justice,” she collects her hands in front of her, slightly aiming her chin down, - “hopefully coming here will be a learning experience.”

“I would like to ask if there will be any conflicting feelings for you Lady Yılmaz in attending mass on Sunday’s or reading the new bible with us, your presence would honor me,” she doesn’t think the Queen could be offensive even if she tried.
“It would be my pleasure, there’s no conflict of interests– I hope you can forgive my ignorance and lack of knowledge on the subject, I am not well versed in other religions.”
“We would gain knowledge from each other, I encourage you as well to enrich us with culture from your lands– especially after your journey here could have been smoother, I hope you will feel at home here in my court.”
“Of course your Majesty– if there is a convent I would happily extend a helping hand with the sickly residing there– I’ve been schooled in medicine and my father believed charity for the poor and sickly should be a priority.”
“Generous offer, I will make sure to send your message forward to the nuns running the convent–” there’s a nod exchanged between the two of them.

if you could hold a whisper

Enamored; mellisonant tones filled her ears, mixed with laughter and chattering from the attendees, a cocktail of sounds– dreams and childlike enthusiasm tumbling in her eyes, for a woman from the Ottoman Empire this was surreal. Body half swung over the banister, wanting that precise moment drawn across closed eyelids, - “Lord Louis!” a glass of bubbling champagne titled to - and - fro in his hand, - “isn’t it wonderful?” skirt bundled between her fingers she skids down the stairs, baffled at the sight of the man she had come to make acquaintance with during her stay in France.

“Lady Aynişah, what a pleasure to see your radiant face at English court,” she curtsey's in all haste, - “what a delight,” hands moving by the pace of his words.
“I would say the same, but you were quicker of the mind,” a smile which would give her a splitting headache the next morning wouldn’t fade from her face, - “what an astounding evening this is going to be.”
“Your enthusiasm is unlike anyone else’s,” Louis laughs.
“I feel rabbit-hearted, I’ve never been allowed to attend a ball before by my father.”
“Ahh the exuberance of your first ball–”

“Lord Louis, please accept my apology on my cousin’s behalf, her energy, and sloppy manners are a working progress,” Demurcu had a dry tone, steady, and demanding; not the same man she knew from their household– a hand tugging her closer by the wrist, - “I asked you to wait for me before entering the hall,” she could feel the breath of his sigh on her ear.

“I will accept, but I do find her energy invigorating– I can tell she knows how to enjoy an evening,” she is unsure if they are listening to the same words, her cousin gives the man a half-smile.
“Please excuse us for a moment,” Aynî isn’t given a choice when he pulls her along, like a stubborn mule she slides with him across the floor.
“No, not excused Dem– let me enjoy this evening, I’ve behaved all day and will continue to do so; it’s not a crime to be happy,” she has an arched eyebrow, though she’s not crossed with him, even when she had been in the past it only lasted for a minute, - “besides we should not bicker out in the open.”
“We are not, this is a normal conversation.”
“Have you seen Lady Mary tonight? She’s very beautiful, a sight to see.”
“Don’t change the subject and don’t speak of people as if they are flowers you can pluck,” but he smiles, maybe because she’s weird or because he finds it amusing, either way, it’s a reassurance.
“People treasure flowers–” in silence, they mutually agree to end it there, and it left her puzzled why he had been easily agitated lately, not enough for her to care.

From the upper balcony of the ballroom, a myriad of colors flashed before her eyes, clouds of dresses and the men were dark rain passing through them, or some were sailors caught in a tidal wave– watching when they dance or walk, she guessed it was some sort of walk. Starting to dawn on her how little she knew of court.

“Someone found my hiding corner,” there’s an exceptionally tall, blonde and blue-eyed man, he leans over the railing a step to her left, - “it’s almost as if you are attending, except not so crowded that you can barely breathe,” his smile is a kind one, something you imagine from a prince in a fairytale.

“My apologies, I realized after coming here I do not know the steps of the dance,” she steals a glance at the man, curious of his exotic features.
“No need, it was unexpected,” he catches her looking and gives a small smile which she shares.
“Don’t you enjoy such a beautiful evening?”
“I do– I might just be getting old or seen too many of them, with time there’s a dullness,” the man confesses.
“Ohh– I can’t even imagine ever feeling dull at these events,” the trotting of feet begins anew beneath them, - “the air feels intoxicating, so much that I don’t even dare to drink and make a fool of myself.”
“They only say the court doesn’t enjoy scandals, but it lives and breaths for them, the news would pass quickly– if that were to happen, but alas I believe you’ll be fine.”
“I wouldn’t be scandal material, cordial mischief maybe,” Aynî snickers.

“You’ve bested me again Magnus,”  they are interrupted by a man climbing the stairs, two steps at a time; his presence like an echo growing louder the closer he came.
“Your corner is practically under siege tonight, Lord Magnus– forgive me for not asking or introducing myself sooner, it sort of slipped away from me.”
“I could tell you had other issues on your mind, I didn’t want to add another one,” he turns from her towards the approaching man, - “Mathias, you look well tonight.”
“I am, it’s good to be here,” the men exchange a look between them, she had a feeling of being the intruder in the situation, bouncing down from her tippy toes.
“I will take my leave, there are more corners for me to find here– I don’t need to be a thief and steal yours.”
“I still didn’t catch your name Lady–” Magnus asks.
“Lady Aynişah, I believe,” a statement, she hadn’t expected everyone to be inviting, or thrilled to have a meeting with her– truthfully she felt rather insignificant in the masses, which comforted her.
“You would be correct my Lord,” she curtsey, when in doubt you curtsey unless you start thinking maybe you’ve overdone it; a finger gun aims at the man and fires– a good compensation she figures. Some people have a beauty like a winter, cold and hard– you can’t help but to want to disturb the untouched snow.
“Lord Mathias here is an accomplished dancer,” Magnus face split into a boyish grin, smacking his hand on the man’s shoulder, - “the youths should go and enjoy the evening, make sure our guest feels welcomed.”
“I–” Aynî tries to speak but is interrupted.
“I wouldn’t mind her company.”
“Ohh, look there we go,” Magnus smiles at them.

Aynişah’s first instinct was he didn’t want to be in her presence, or at least she wondered if there wasn’t someone else he would have rather spent that evening with, he allows her the inner side with the railing of the stairs when they walk down; a silence for the first few steps. - “I really don’t know how to dance, unless it’s the Halay of course,” she spends a minute studying the profile of his face, an attractive young man with steel grey eyes, he catches her looking, and she thinks there’s a split second change in his expression when she doesn’t look away, - “sorry I don’t have manners or much shame.”

“I don’t mind,” he replies, leaving her unsure of what he replied to, - “the journey here must have been exhausting?”
“Not really, I enjoy the freedom of riding– freedom of even being outside of four walls and a door feels privileged,” Aynî chuckles, a hand following the smooth surface of the railing, - “a few hiccups made it a longer adventure.”
“You don’t leave the house much in Ottoman?”
“Ohh I did, with a male family member escorting me and only to certain places, you’ve never been there I take it?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“It’s beautiful, rich in architecture, a different culture but we are inventive people,” he takes a few fast steps, grasping two glasses from a tray for them.
“Here we have a glass when we enter,” he offers it to her with a steady gaze, - “English culture,” one side of his lips turns upwards.
“For culture,” she holds it delicately, a heavy crystal which would surely shatter and scatter across the floor if it slipped through her fingers, though she wondered if anyone would care; engulfed in their gossiping and laughing, would they notice? - “şerefe,” she raises her glass and clinks it lightly against his.

“Now we can dance,” gracefully he finishes his drink, in a single move he takes both of them to the side, there’s a smolder at the small of her back, a gentle but firm gesture towards the dance floor, - “you take one step forward–” a whisper by her ear, with patients he talks her through the steps.

“Thank you,” Aynî has a bubbly laugh, adrenaline shooting up and down in her veins from managing her first dance, - “you are a patient man Lord Mathias.”
“You are a quick learner.”
“Are you at court for dancing?”
“No, no I am here to support the reformation.”
“Ohh yes, I’ve heard of it, politics and religion sort of fly over my head.”
“Heard of it? I didn’t think it was possible to miss,” he looks confused but for the first time, she can see a small smile on his lips.
“I might take interest in letting you explain it to me when you have the time.”
“I would make time for it,” he agrees.

The music died down, candles are blown out, slowly they started returning to their own chambers or sneaking in where they did not belong; soon no one would be up but the ghosts slinking around in the hallways. At night the world was different, she sunk into the calm lull of the dark, a lantern in hand when entering the stables, - “Sevil–” she whispers for her horse under her breath, a little cloud dancing before her eyes before disappearing. Out of a dark corner, her beauty appears, trotting closer to her owner, a hand unfurls, revealing a carrot beneath, the other caressing the side of Sevil. - “Did you have a good night? We are going out tomorrow, so you get to stretch your legs,” there’s shuffling behind her, turning she can make out his contours, - “wandering in the dark Malkocoglu Pasha,” she says with a smile, - “Demurcu was happy to hear of your presence.”

“Aynişah Hatun,” she’s heard he is a man with a moral backbone strong enough to stand on its own, - “didn’t mean to disturb you,” he nods in the general direction of her horse.
“You didn’t, I am sure you were out here to take a look at your own, just don’t tell Dem– he’s sensitive to me running around, afraid it might start rumors.”
“He holds you in high regard and speaks dearly of you,” leaning against a support beam watching her, - “after all, what is a cup if it can’t hold anything?”
“Starry-eyed and naive as I am, I do not know the answer, Malkocoglu Pasha.”
“Ruins.”
“Somewhere in there is a deep meaning with my reputation and being a woman,” she sighs.
“No, it’s just what your brother told me, Aynişah Hatun.”
“You don’t get to banter back,” Aynî chuckles at the man, - “I know my position, I won’t jeopardize my reputation,” turning her attention back to her horse, - “nor will I make you work harder to keep a good relationship between our countries.”
“I wouldn’t let it get in the way.”
“No? Not a gambling man?”
“Not on your reputation–” palms up towards the sky, shoulders shrugging, - “only due to my connections towards your cousin, otherwise I would gamble on it.”
“The stakes and what little I would get out of it are too low for me as well, some other time maybe.”
“Maybe.”

the fox and the hound

There’s a home back in the Ottoman Empire, one which would echo in emptiness, some days she nearly forgets that it’s there, waiting for her return; she gives a thought to father’s declining health, his austerity withering with old age — perhaps she would never return before the final decline? Before death came knocking on his door, nature would take its course, God claiming what was his, all things had a natural path, one day it had to end. Seated in the grass she strung her bow, wind whistling against the string; father had expected, long even for a boy, what man didn’t? Nonetheless, he had fallen in love with his daughter from the first breath, or so he told her; on the off days where he had time for her they would indulge in activities leaning towards the male gender — certainly, she couldn’t imagine him sitting down and knitting with her.

“Lady Aynişah,” instinctively she lowered her bow, from rustling bushes two horses appeared with their masters proudly jolting along for the ride.
“Lord Magnus,” mutual smiles were exchanged underneath the blistering sun, crimson red fabric dragged along the ground when she curtsied to greet him, - “Lord Mathias.”
“You’ve ventured quite the distance by foot,” pulling the reins tightly, the horse stomped in one place before settling, slender fingers slid over the horse’s mule.
“Slipped my mind how far out I was going, I would have taken Sevil though she wasn’t keen on the idea– seems as if she is becoming older,” not simply age, her horse had been a constant firecracker, uneven in temper and mischievous when bored.
“So you went hunting on foot?” Mathias was a factual man, even his small talk was abrupt and fleeting just like his eyes wandering on the horizon, she wonders what catches his attention.
“I took the opportunity of scouring the forest as well, yes,” emptying any worries into the void of nature, breathing in the fresh air, enjoying the moments of freedom given to her.
“We’re heading further out if you’d care to join us?” Magnus reaches out a hand, bathing in golden locks, at any moment a dragon could mistake him for a treasure chest.
“Would it be proper? Would it be wise?” Aynî questions, slinging her bow over her back.
“I would not wish to make you feel uncomfortable.”
“We’ve got different views of what is acceptable in our cultures,” she just hadn’t decided yet where she would draw the line for herself, was it wrong indulging in another culture? Being in England their code of conduct should suffice, yet the little voice in the back of her head whispered of the consequences.
“I wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving you out here alone while darkness falls,” Magnus reasons his concerns.
“Certainly if she found her way out here she can find a way back,” one could not argue with reason, at the moment it was the voice of Mathias.
“Certainly Lord Mathias, your concern is touching,” Aynî replies with a gleam in her ember eyes.
“We both insist,” the men exchange a look, - “otherwise I’ll share a horse with Mathias.”
“No– we would– except for we have dignity as well, with all due respect.” 
“Doesn’t a lady's reputation fall before? Wouldn’t dignity be helping a lady keep her honor?” Magnus counters, a light playfulness in his voice.
“Of course–”
“Thank you, I won’t allow the trouble,” despite enjoying seeing how far they could push the poor man she decides to push her own limits; which she had found herself doing one too many times lately– Magnus swiftly helps her up on the back of his horse.

When a path narrows Mathias takes the lead through the dense forest, lately she had been asking herself if she could go back to living the life she once had– once again she pushed the question deeper down, swallowing.

"I think he would expect my Lady calling him your Grace," half turning his head Magnus spoke in a low register.
"Really? Ohh– being perfectly formal your Grace– I've been wondering when either of you would correct me," she allows a snicker, readjusting her sweating palms below his ribs.
"Have you known for long?"
"No, Mary informed me– I thought I would wait and see how long it would take," despite not knowing Mathias for long, yet he had been nothing but kind– well his mind often went somewhere else and she attributed what others called cold to him being shy.
“Despite the appearance, I believe Mathias shows patience when it is needed, we wouldn’t expect without proper introductions for someone entirely new to the court in knowing the proper way to address all the nobility,” she nearly felt guilty for being comfortable when speaking to Magnus.
“Formalities have never been one of my fortes, lack of socializing outside the family doesn’t prepare one for these occasions.”
“For us, I believe formalities is nearly all we’ve ever known,” Mathias glances at them from the front, she gives him a faint smile before he looks away–

Droplets of blood stains the grass like morning dew, with an arrow the fox had staggered into the foliage where it whimpered; she had forgotten how swift it was and she wonders if maybe she should be more horrid over how swiftly she ended its life. Was she merciless or merciful? Unsure if she has ever been taught the difference; the body goes limp– would she be known the same way her father was? Vizer Evhad showed no mercy, his reputation was not kind; he couldn’t be, or so he had explained to her while pouring affection over his little girl– she loved him, but never wanted to be like him.



Another day rolls around, early morning when she waits for Mary by the lake before everyone else decides to get up; secluded by foliage and blueberry pushes, she drags a toe along the surface of the lake. With a spring in her step and a wide smile of secrecy on her lips, Mary joins her for a morning bath.

"I’ve already done a full circle,” merged in water Mary’s resemblance of a siren becomes uncanny, even without song any sailor would drown for her,- “at times it barely feels as if I never left at all, the memories nearly merges together,” dainty shoulders pop out of the water, by now they’ve started to enjoy the water and was dragging their feet from getting out.
“I’ll be waiting at court when you make another lap,” Aynî jokes, combing her fingers through her hair.
“No, that won’t happen– I don’t think,” Mary laughs with a crinkled eyebrow and hesitation in her voice.
“You seem happy.”
“Courting and marriage are not the same–”
“That’s not courting– from what I’ve heard–” she implies, though Mary’s happiness felt more important than what people were whispering.
“I was trying to sound sensible.”
“When you are ready I’d like to hear the dirty deeds– a virgin spinster death awaits me, the least you can do one day is indulge me,” Aynî splashes a handful of water with a chuckle.
“No one is forcing you to have a virgin spinster death, which I never want to hear again, leaves a bad taste in the mouth–” they go silent for a second, looking back at the bushes for a rattling sound, which they’d heard once before but decided not to pay any attention. No one was bold enough watching them bathe.
“Only myself,” and her cousin seemed dead set on not letting her marry anyone but someone from the Ottoman Empire, - “I was betrothed, before coming here.”
“Would I be bold to ask what happened?” Aynî chuckles at Mary’s request.
“No, it would be appropriate when I brought the subject up– father had him executed, pride and honor,” Vizer Evhad, laughing and slitting a man’s throat in one breath, - “there was a lack of respect in my father’s eyes.”




“Kaptan Pala–” have you ever met a man with eyes that swallowed every source of light, his eyes were a trick of the light; she throws a small sack of sunseeds in his lap, - “not the same but similar to home,” Aynî smiles. Lifting it gingerly he weighs it in his hand and gives her a small nod back, their last evening of the hunt; earlier she had fallen from a low hanging branch while plucking nuts and he had given her a hand up– this was a returning gesture. There’s something that causes her to be cautious around him, she didn’t fear him simply unsure of what foot they were standing on.

you can become unmade

The glow of candelabrum flickers when blithe smiles pass in a rush, relief and misery dances side by side from her reflection; fingers sliding along the braid, tapping on the mask to secure it– sweat slicking along their bodies when they slide across the ballroom floors of a dulcet tune. Reveling in frivolities; between the heat of moving bodies and burning candles sucking the air out of the room, a bead of sweat slid across her collar bone. It had seemed to be a good idea when she spoke to Mary, why wouldn’t she be allowed to have her hair down? No one would know it was her behind the mask, heck with a shawl everyone would know– wasn’t she entitled to some fun? Would she feel guilty in the morning? Without a doubt–

There’s a glass of wine, it pours down her throat as if reversed into the water, the air is scarce and her lungs constricted, tonight everyone feels like strangers– liminal she stands, admitting under her breath this might have been a terrible mistake; fingers following the upheaval of her collar bone–

“Would you like to dance my Lady?” The question floats past, surprised she half-turns wondering what might have prompted the question, without a sound she places her hand in his; words trying to string a proper sentence together but she can’t find them. Weightless, nearly sinking through the floor, flushed cheeks from the heat in the room they take to the dance floor; she wonders if he still remembers the slope of her spine, the way she remembers the ember of his hand– the soil of an Ottoman can’t be washed out of the marrow. One night can’t last forever but the light froze with their shadows on the wall, everyone danced past on their toes, rows of two and two; a charade of oblivion, simple entertainment for the flesh. Hoping time won’t catch up to her–

The night a fever dream, one held close to her chest– maidens bathed in rose petals, with glistening eyes they laugh; somewhere near midnight, she feels the banister under her palm, slowly she walks up the steps, trying to disappear like a thief in the night.

“No one makes silk like this outside of the Ottoman empire,” his fingers gingerly slip between the braid of her hair, without a glance she knew.
“Shit–” the word slips out from unguarded lips before she can react.
“I’ll keep it a secret,” he assures, nimble fingers grab his wrist; with a heart nearly beating out of her chest.
“Malkocoglu Pasha–” a bitterness on her lips, - “I don’t want to feel in debt to anyone,” she says in one haste of a breath.
” You won’t be,” in a wriggle he’s out of her grip, - ” favor of a fellow countryman?”

When she was younger she wanted to stay soft and gentle; now she was older and attending English court–

Awfully rushed; but COMPLETE

Last edited by Mimira (17/12/2020 at 09:12)

Hi!
So, there’s only 4 of us left, & I’m closing the round now, but posting the other one when at least one person is done

Next round will have 1 event for all & some personal plot points, so we can chat about what we wanna do & what you wanna write about

Round 2 is now open!

Round 2: Sweet, Not Lasting

The beginning of the season has been eventful, to say the least. One marriage seemed to have started while a couple of them are feuding rumours of the end.

But, first thing's first.

We're stepping into May & June of 1533.
Spring is slowly turning into summer. Friendships are growing, and so is the child in Queen's belly. At the end of June, her ladies-in-waiting will notice a growing bump on her stomach, along with this wonderful glow she seems to be wearing.

You'll spend the first week moving to Hampton Court, some will leave early, some will leave a day or two behind: ladies will leave mid-week, with the Queen, while the men will arrive at the end of the week with the King.

From there on, you'll each have a few things to do on your own, asides your normal duties. Still, the court is a lively place, the rumours travel quickly and you need to make sure to take everything with a grain of salt.

rumours...or?

The King has been seen stopping by the Seymour residence on his way to the Queen, and as for usual it took the Queen only so long to find it out - the fight will be long and quite exhausting, but it shall be as private as these things can be. The pair will only come back to the sweetness of their relationship in July, with the growing belly showing.

Lord and Lady Fairfax have left the court to run their own household.

Lord Carr has also left the castle permanently, taking with the offer of spending some time with the nobility of Sweden.

There's a rumour going around that the King has found a match for young master Boleyn, and while the names have not been mentioned, you can often see young Lady Jane Parker blushing in his presence, which is more than you can say for his repelled expressions around young Jane - his attention seems directed elsewhere.

But neither of the Boleyn siblings seem to have it in them to find a suitable match and Lady Mary has been seen sneaking around the Hampton gardens on more occasions, returning flushed and oftentimes with a very specific smile on her face.

Deemed the most attractive siblings in the court, Ladies Gascoyne seemed to spend a great deal of time with a certain prince - one more than the other - and people aren't certain if it's the right sister.

Lord Maximillian von In der Maur seems to be leaving before the season is through - you can almost hear a collective sigh by young ladies and maids at the court, even if he seems to be taking it rather well, so naturally, there's a question in everyone's mind: does this mean he's running away?

Seems like the new Dowager Duchess might be looking at a marriage in her close future - there are rumours the King intends to marry off Lady Avis to one of his closest friends - and there are a couple of names that are being dropped around her right now, despite her reluctance to listen to the rumours.

(might add more).

So, the only thing I need everyone to attend in this round is the Tourney.
As for usual, the King has an uncontrollable urge to showcase his might and a tourney is organized to commemorate his coronation 24 years ago. It will take place from 24 - 26th June.

The celebration will last for exhausting 3 days, with Tourney happening on Day 1 & 2, and the King will share his kingdom with the tourney winner (given there is someone who manages to beat him at this duel). The festivities, music, drinks happen during the day, before and after jousting.
Please find the list of duels below, along with who the men ask to wear their favours in brackets, and the winner will be in bold. PLEASE READ.
Also, I might still add the favour (when you're done writing)

Day 1: June 24

Louis (Felicia, should she agree) vs. Philippe

Emin Ali vs. Otto (Lucrezia)

Francis vs. John (Cressida): John won by sheer luck, his horse slipped and his spear hit a bit harder than imagined, combined with Francis' sense of depth being a bit worse since the accident.

George vs. Henry (Anne): George noticed his rival, and made sure he fell the right way.

Maximillian vs. Leopold

Mathias vs. Magnus

Day 2: June 25

Magnus vs. Emin Ali: a very straightforward win on Magnus' side.

Leopold vs. Philippe: both men fell from the horse, neither won.

Henry vs. John: both men fall from their horses, injured & are brought back to be attended by the doctor. While Henry will wave make a short remark to be heard to everyone who is close by as they carry him, whoever sees John being carried will be aware of his horrible state. You will all be asked to return to the outside setting to have food and wine - you're expected not to celebrate, but stay there to keep the appearance of normality.

Early evening of June 25th, you'll all stop with your good celebration with the news that the King is recovering, but that John had died. The majority will go back to their chambers or spend time with those they deem close, for consolation, and as a reminder of gratitude - you're alive and in good health, and hopefully with someone you call your own.

Please end your story on the early morning of June 26th, when you're all gathered at the great hall of Hampton Court.
(incoming snippet on the closing day).
--
Requirements
Name
Age
Interests: up to 5, it's easier if you interacted with them.
Outfits for the tourney (optional)
Story (include what you deem important & end it on June 26th)
Coming back if there's another season: simple yes or no & you'll be able to change it at any point )

Last edited by Zaralee (14/12/2020 at 21:53)

Impressions & Snippets possibly

Lady Felicia: DONE

Lord Louis likes how subtle and direct the woman was simultaneously, and he was quite surprised to find out she was married (as he will mention, should you discuss the matter with him). He likes your wit, he enjoys the company - the light and the charming side of you and he will very nonchalantly mention your marriage even if the flirtation becomes open, or something more should occur. Of course, he will not try to tarnish your honour, and will not push for anything you might not be into, but he is far from shy young boys that are all over the court - he is into you, and you'll know it.

Lord Philippe shared a couple of words with you as well, and seems to be more interested in the fact you are here on your own - he'd flirt, that's for sure, but more as his own means of finding more information. He finds you appealing, yes, and he wouldn't care for this marriage you have gotten yourself into should you decide to indulge in a bit of flirting or more.

Lord George seems to take more interest in talking to you than to his supposed wife-to-be, as he will demonstrate should the occasion arise: he would, of course, politely excuse himself instead of being brash. Still, he's in his merry ways, he is (much like his siblings) high in spirit and life of the party. Flirting, ever so covered beneath the mask of respect, might happen, yet George is aware something properly flirtatious might only happen in the privacy of a company you both confide in. He might be a bit more open to flirting since he feels you will take no offence in it, but he is going to thread a bit more carefully than, for example, Louis.

Lady Cressida is absolutely in love with your antics and enjoys spending time with you. She's going to get a bit more wine into her during one of the parties in the middle of the summer, starting to share & overshare equally, unintentionally blabbing out about her sister's disinterest in her potential husband. She'll also be curious about yours (understatement), and depending on how close you'd like them to get, she'll confide in you and make sure you know you can do the same. Cressida won't have any malice behind her words, nor intentions. She might push, at a point, to find out more about your husband, since you don't seem to be in love, in her opinion (and childish belief what love should be) - or at least, not with him, despite this romantic part of personality she thinks you have.

Optional: Queen Anne is going to cross your path one day during a walk - if you want to stop and exchange a few words, she'll dismiss the young lady with her (whoever you'd like it to be) and ask you to accompany her for a little bit more walking and, of course, conversation. The situation is not the best with her and the King, but she will certainly not address it, but also won't make an effort to deny it either. She will, however, very lightly thread some questions about you and your marriage: there was, a rumour (which she will hide under the guise of merry news that was spread around the court back then) of your pregnancy. Depending on what you share, she'll react and form an opinion (lemme know what you decide).

Optional: A day-long hunt will happen at the beginning of June, during one of the hottest days thus far. Men will all leave to hunt, most returning on the early morning next day, while some will come back late in the night of the same day they rode out. Both Louis and George will come back early, and should she be walking around to cool off, she can easily stumble on one of them. Let me know which, if any.

Lady Lucrezia

At this point, Otto has sent the letter back home - to his brother first. Despite his father still being the king, he would like to make sure his brother is involved with this decision from the first moment. While this entire thing is more of a tactical nature at this point, Otto will not be focused on that - the approval, in his opinion, is only a matter of time - there is nothing keeping him from marrying for love, in his opinion. He will try to spend more time with Luca, normally within proper occasions, and from time to time he won't mind sitting at a lonesome place, playing chess, or simply talking. He won't push for much physical contact, but he won't shy away from it either - he'll be more relaxed and somewhat more oblivious to the things happening around them.

At some point, Magnus will very subtly tell you some advice about the adventure of marrying (if you manage) someone who is close to the throne. Speak a little bit about the mandatory things, a bit about how their life will change, how she should not take some freedoms for granted, and how some might be revoked from them - don't take this as a sign of something bad, just a friendly insight or a warning, as you'd wish. Magnus has grown, in his own ways, protective of Luca, because he can see his nieces in her and wants her to be happy (or as happy as a woman can be in this world).

It's safe to say Avis doesn't dislike Luca - quite the contrary, she thinks there's potential in the girl: she's educated, well-spoken and quite funny when she chooses to be. Long story short, she will not avoid her company, she'll be interested in finding out more about you through conversations - she's also going to be interested in finding out about your plans with Otto - in both cases (if they come to life, or they don't).

You'll receive a letter from Blanca at the end of May, in which she'll inform you she is well, healthy and request a meeting in a fortnight. Should Luca decide to sneak out in the middle of the night, again, Blanca will ask Luca for her support once she marries Otto (she has her ways of knowing) - and will not ask Luca to decide right away (altho, she can).

Optional: Late June, before the Tourney, Lucrezia will find another message inviting her for a meeting in the garden, late at night. Should she decide to go, she would have picked the night when some of the men will show up early from (yet another men-only) hunting trip, so she will have to be extra careful. On her way there, she'll encounter a choice: Otto, alone & tired from his hunt, very excited to see her and quite forward in his affection; or run out on him and look for Blanca. Let me know who gets a bit of her time this evening.

Lady Aynişah

It might be a new sort of thing, but Mathias feels like his focus is shifted while she's around - and strangely enough, he likes the unexpected bit. He'd like to know more about Aynişah, in an appropriate way, but would not hesitate a second should she suggest a more intimate environment (to talk, of course, he is still a gentleman). He'll open up, slowly, become more and more open in their conversations (even showing his more relaxed side), and will be very curious about her life prior to coming to the court. Still, she can catch him unprepared, which will not be disliked.

Emin Ali is curious to find out how she fits into the play here - nothing of particular interest there, just to see how she handles the society and this new world at the court. Without a doubt, he loves having someone to speak to in his mother tongue. There's no denial, she is an attractive young woman and Emin Ali is not in denial of the fact, yet respects her and her family enough not to act on anything nor doing anything to put her reputation in question. He'd be into conversations and walk, even horseback riding (with or without Dem) and nothing at the cost of her rep, of course.

Mary likes the girl - frank, open, not boring, yet not vulgar in any way - she just doesn't know what prevented her from socializing more with Aynişah during their time at the French court. She'll suggest walks and talks, and during some of those, Anne can join you too, since she likes the girl as well. She'll be curious about her past engagement, should she like to hear a bit more about it, if Aynişah is up for sharing it with her. Mary will encourage a little bit of wild in Aynişah, making sure the girl knows nothing is pushing her into anything.

It could be because of her effect on Mathias, but Magnus likes the girl who has exceeded his expectations easily. Perhaps, should they run into each other, he would pick up a conversation and see what she's about - he's curious and she seems like she's up for talking. Magnus has no bad intention, just to make sure that's out there - she is genuinely delightful to him.

Optional: quite early in June, you'll be walking around the castle and get caught up in the rain - nowhere to hide, you'll notice two options that would keep you from getting soaking wet in your silk: run into the stable (not the close one, where nobility holds most horses) and stumble into Emin Ali; or find shelter in a tiny chapel which is no longer used as often, where you'll find Mathias. Let me know what option you pick, and we go from there.

Lady Colette

Last edited by Zaralee (17/12/2020 at 23:05)

Colette is slow but here!

Form

Lady Felicia Compton, Baroness Morely
Age: 23
Face claim: Jenna Coleman
Personality traits: Fun-loving/Dynamic/Sociable/Attentive/Dainty//Vain/Single-minded/Proud/Self-indulgent

Felicia served as Lady-in-Waiting during one season, five years prior. At court she was known to be something of a flirt, and while her friends might have called her lively, more gruff voices would perhaps have said wild. She was good at keeping tabs of the gossip at court and well aware she was sometimes herself the topic of wagging tongues. Before any permanent damage could be done to her reputation, however, she was married to the heir to the Barony of Morley, whom she had had a long-standing engagement to. After her marriage she returned to the manor pregnant, but a child has yet to waddle through its halls. Since then her husband has succeeded his father to the title. The Baron and Baroness has visited the court for events during the years and the Baron supported the King’s Great Matter.

Returning to court, Felicia does so with a bit of more wit behind her brow, happy to serve the new queen, but as excited for the splendour of court life. She is an admire of all things of beauty, which in its worst can expresses itself in vanity and greed. She greets everyone with a smile, friend or foe, and there is nothing she loves more than a good laugh, a bit of conversation and pleasant company. But she shouldn’t be dismissed as solely a pretty face, she has a more calculating side beneath it. While friendly, she confides in but a few and once in her confidence she’ll keep your secrets as close to her heart as she does her own.

Interests: Lord Louis, Lord George, Lady Cressida and Lord Philippe perhaps? maybe? or anyone else you feel to throw in the mix
Felicia would stay for another season

I.

Much was up in the air, the move to the Hampton Court fast approaching. The weather was growing warmer and with the dampness of spring disappearing, many moods were growing brighter with the lengthening days, many but not all.

“Lord Imécourt!” Felicia hurried down the hallway, all but running. She had thought she had seen the tails of the man turning the corner ahead, but perhaps she had been wrong. Her eyes had not betrayed her and soon the Frenchman popped back into her view, quizzical expression on his face.

“Ah, Lord Imécourt, just the man I needed.” She smiled, walking over to him in a less hurried pace.

“You need me, Baroness?” He smiled, a smile which Felicia had come to understand had charmed the whole court during his stay. “Should I be intrigued or aghast?”

“Oh, no need to flatter yourself, my lord.” She held back her laugher, still, her amusement showed. “I do not need you for your own person, my lord, but rather as a member of the Privy Chamber.” Tilting her head, she added: “Though I’d say you do rank among the top half of the King’s men I hoped I’d find.”

“There is a list is there?” Now he did look intrigued, but she ignored the question.

“I’m here on a request from the Queen. Her grace wishes the King to attend her, as soon as possible.”

“As soon as possible? We are on our way into council,” his expression had turned blasé as he moved in a step closer, “the King is a very busy man, he has a duty to his county –”

It was nowhere near her place to even have noticed the matter, but it had to take someone a lot more oblivious as not to notice the tension between the King and Queen. And as the Queen was carrying his child, Felicia had taken it upon herself to put the blame for it solely at the King’s feet. Which was perhaps the cause of her sudden brash outburst.

“A busy man I am sure, my lord,” her chest puffing up, “but what about his duty to his wife, his Queen? Who is carrying the heir to the throne, nonetheless, which would make the request one of state matter, as well as one of matrimony. I’d say the King should take heed to her grace’ every whim, and while he has a country to run, at least come when she calls.”

“With such a speech, I should perhaps ask you to join us in council, my lady, and present it yourself to his majesty.”

She looked up at him, opening her mouth, then closing, pursing her lips. The amusement on his face was blatant.

“You were jesting with me, my lord.”

“I am, I was, my lady,” he said with an apologetic nod.

The scene playing out in her mind, her presenting her outrage to the King, she couldn’t hold back her laughter.

“But I do have council to attend.”

“Of course,” she paused, smiling up at him, “then would you be so kind to convey to the King, that the Queen wishes his majesty to attend to her, at his earliest convenience.”

“I will, my lady.”

“Preferably before we leave for Hampton,” he chuckled, they wouldn’t leave for a few days yet. “Then I’ll be out of your hair, my lord.”

II.

The ladies had all arrived at Hampton Court, but as days had passed, the men were still nowhere to be seen. The Queen, however, kept up the mood among her ladies. They occupied their time with music and games, as well as a little time for exploration in which Felicia had spent her time finding her way through the gardens, locating the spots that were hidden away, as well as the prettiest patches of flowers. She forced Cressida to come with her on more than one occasion. The girl had seemed a little listless when the men had not arrived as expected, but she had not said anything of it to Felicia, who had waited with her prodding. But this day Cressida had not been in the mood for a stroll, keeping her sister company instead and Felicia had set out alone.

“Baroness!” Felicia had admired one of flower patches, and looking up she saw the Queen on the path ahead and went to greet her grace.

“Lady Felicia,” Queen Anne was smiling, she had such an inviting smile, Felicia could not help but to return it.

“Your grace,” she curtsied.

“I hope you are starting to find your way about the palace, settling in here at Hampton, Lady Felicia.”

“I am, your grace. I must admit I’ve found much pleasure in exploring the gardens. They are, they are –” she sighed, admiringly, “just lovely.”

“That is something we agree on.” Her grace smiled. Would you accompany for a bit, Lady Felicia, I would show you one of my favourite spots.”

“I’d be delighted, your grace.” Queen Anne dismissed the lady who had accompanied her, and Felicia took her place by the Queen’s side.

It was with some wonder in her thoughts Felicia set down the garden path next to the Queen. She was not usually one of the ladies the Queen singled out to accompany her, she had a loyal confidant in Lady Avis and then there were other ladies that had stood by her for longer than Felicia’s soon two months. Perhaps it was just a natural step for her Queen to access one of her new ladies.

“The fine weather we’ve been having is a blessing, your grace.” She offered conversationally.

“It is isn’t it? Perhaps we shall have a picnic tomorrow.”

“A fine idea, your grace, some of the ladies has been a little down since the gentlemen has not arrived yet, a picnic could surely lighten their moods.” Felicia mused.

“It is decided then.” If the Queen had any feeling regarding the fact that the men had not arrived, she did not show it, simply smiled. “Your moods seem quite cheery, Baroness.”

Felicia laughed. “If I may say, your grace, both you and I, with a few more years, are able to make our own amusements, for a few days at least.”

“You are quite right, but you do make us sound old.”

“Not at all my intent, your grace.”

“Oh, I know, I was but teasing, and they say a fine wine take a few years to bloom properly.”

Felicia agreed wholeheartedly.

“But then you also manage to keep your spirits up, with your lord husband many miles away?”

“They say a little distance makes the heart grow fonder, your grace.”

“And you find it to be true?”

“I do miss Arthur, Lord Morley, dearly. But I’m also very happy with my position as your lady, your grace.”

“And you have been a delightful addition.”

Felicia accepted the Queen’s kind words with a nod. There was a lull in the conversation as they walked.

“You must tell me when you whish to head back to the palace, your grace. I wouldn’t want to you to exhaust yourself.” Felicia remarked.

“Nonsense, I had not walked long before we happened upon you, Felicia, and the exercise is good for us, we will walk a little further.” The Queen beamed as she put a hand protectively over her belly. It didn’t show much yet, but with a healthy growing child it soon would.

“Besides, I want to talk with you some more. I heard that last you left court was with equal merry news.”

The Queen was glowing, and her words reflected just that cheer, but they struck Felicia in a way she had not expected. In fact, she was surprised at her own reaction, as she halted suddenly. She should have been prepared for the question to come up, but she never braved herself to deal with the memory.

“Lady Felicia?” The Queen had of course noticed the sudden shift, with worry creeping into her eyes. “I did not mean to offend.”

“You could never, your grace.” She blinked a few times, hoping the tears that had started form behind her eyes would recede. She tried a smile and started walking again. “I apologise, your grace, I don’t know what came over me.”

“You need not explain –”

“I did leave court carrying merry news, but there was difficulty from the start,” Queen Anne stayed silent, letting her find her words, “and the baby – he – arrived to early.”

It had been a difficult time – during and after. They grieved together, Arthur had looked forward to the child too and he could see how deep Felicia was hurting after the loss. After some time, they had decided on trying for themselves – Arthur had tried – he knew how much she wanted a baby, but in the end, it had only made them both miserable.

Her smile was tinted with sadness. She only then first realised her hand had gone to rest on her flat stomach, in the same protective stance the Queen had sported. Removing it, she quickly wide away a few tears which had spilled over.

“I am sorry.”

“Years have passed, I shouldn’t react so. I’m sorry, your grace, I’m not used to speak of it, I haven’t barely at all in nearly as many years, perhaps it is why.”

“No need to excuse yourself, it’s only natural to grieve what we have lost. There is time still,” they had stopped again and here Queen Anne grasped one of Felicias hands in hers. Queen Anne smiled, conveying hope. “You are young yet.”

“You are very kind, my Queen.” Her words had brought at smile back to Felicia’s lips. “I should know, my mother had her fifth last year.”

“There you see, plenty of time.” They started down the path once more. “You should write to your lord husband, invite him to court. You see, Felicia,” the Queen gestured at the greenery and the bulging flower beds, “life blooms here, and I’m sure it will for you too.”

Felicia allowed herself to laugh. “I’m afraid my husband prefers his own house.”

“Nonsense, he should want to be where his lovely wife is.”

“I shall consider it, your grace.”

“Good, I’m glad to see you smile again.”

“I’m too. Now your grace knows, why I will worry for you in your condition.”

“You are welcome to worry a little. Perhaps we should find our way back and seek some refreshments.”

“You are right, as always, your grace.”

III.

When Felicia craved a little time for herself, she loved to escape the other ladies and take a stroll in the gardens. Even though she came alive in the presence of people and thrived there, everyone needs a bit of time with their own thoughts sometime.

She had come to find that the rose garden was her favourite, the smell, and the colours. She would usually pick a few, bringing back to her room, letting the sweet smell fill it. Summer truly had been kind to them, roses and people alike. She was humming, a tune one of the ladies had played earlier in the day when they were attending the Queen.

A bit ahead she found a group of people walking, Felicia slowed her step a little. She found herself smiling as she had assessed the scene. The group consisted of Lord Boleyn and Lady Jane Parker, and a few more, which by what Felicia had heard whispered she put down as chaperones.

She greeted the group as she came closer, the path she had chosen forced her to walk pass them or simply turn on her heel, which would be rude considering she had already been spotted.

“Baroness Morley!” The amount of cheer the Viscount Rochford greeted her with surprised her somewhat. “You have come to collect me for the Queen.”

“I have?” The question in her words showed her surprise, as well as her raised eyebrows, but she quickly covered it with assessment. “I have, my lord.” She bowed her head and clasped her hands. “You must excuse me, Lady Parker, her grace is very fond of her brother, sadly I must steal him away from your company.”

She sold the statement with an apologetic smile, but the words simply seemed to raise the Viscount in the lady’s eyes. Of course, if the Queen had asked for him. Lord Boleyn made his regretful excuses to Lady Parker. For a mere second Felicia caught herself questioning if the Queen indeed had asked for him? But no, the Queen was out on horseback with a few of her ladies. Queen Anne enjoyed her riding and was going to get the most out of it before her belly grew to big for the sport. And then there was some tension to the Viscounts jaw wasn’t it, some impatience in his stance.

Not entirely sure what had just occurred, Felicia was soon walking away from the small party, now with Lord Boleyn in tow, heading back for the palace.

“Her grace is out riding, but if you are so inclined to speak to her, we can mount up and see if we can locate the group, I’m sure they weren’t going very far.” She kept her voice low since they were still within earshot.

He chuckled softly. “I do apologise for intruding on you stroll, just walk with me back to the palace, if that’s what you please, and I promise to leave you to your own company.”

“It’s quite alright, I don’t mind, my lord. But, hmm, I do wonder,” she glanced at him, puzzlement in her features.

“Yes?”

“Should I ask what just occurred, or keep to silent ignorance?” She couldn’t hide a smile. “My lord.”

“Keep to pretend ignorance, I guess you mean”

“Well,” she sought some clever words but found none, “yes. There have been whispers, my lord.”

“Whispers you say?” Looking up at him the subject had put some strain on his face, instead of the relaxed look which had come over him as they first had stepped away from the group.

“Only that there might be a … a plan.” The words wasn’t really with her today. “But isn’t there always? Lady Parker is a sweet girl.”

“Sweet, yes. I won’t deny that.”

Without bringing it up, out loud, they had turned a path that wasn’t leading the straight back to the palace anymore, rather the detour.

“Perhaps you have some insight, Baroness.” His words were treading, but her open look seemed to spur him on. “Seeming as you stay here at court, many miles away from you husband?”

She took a second to straighten out her words before speaking. “I’ve been married for a handful of years now, my lord. We are quite settled, that even at a distance, Lord Morley does well without me and I without him.” It as much as she cared to admit about her marriage, she laughed a little to cover her discomfort. “You are not yet engaged, my lord?” He didn’t protest so she continued. “And you are already stealing away – it doesn’t bode well.” It was as much she dared say, feeling as if she treaded somewhat shaky ground, the topic was already on a too serious a subject, especially since she wouldn’t claim to know him very well.

“Still, I don’t mind playing the saviour, would the need rise again,” she said instead. Earning herself a laugh from him instead. “But I was on my way to pick a few roses for a bouquet, before I had to steal you away. Perhaps you would accompany me to do so know, my lord?”

He agreed with a smile and as they steered back among the roses, they kept to lighter subjects.

IV.

“Perhaps either one of you could enlighten me on a subject which has tickled my mind,” Felicia asked with a half-smile, “I heard that in founding the lovely gardens here at Hampton, King Henry’s intent was to surpass the gardens of Château de Fontainebleau. And while I admire the gardens here greatly, I wonder, would you say his majesty succeeded?”

She was conversing with the Duke d’Orleans and Lord Imécourt at yet another party. There always seemed to be another one, and it was the lavish life which Felicia took delight in. The wine and ale flowing freely. She had been speaking with Lady Mary when the two of them had happened upon the Frenchmen. Lady Mary being close with the French from her time at the French court had stirred up some cheerful conversation between the four of them, but she had been pulled away after a while, not that Felicia minded being left with either of the men. During the months she had found them both pleasant company.

“I dare say little can stand up to the gardens of Fontainebleau,” the Duke offered, with something that could be called a smirk, “François put much time and diligence to the creation of them.”

“Then, perhaps you are a bit biased in your statement, your grace,” she asked, teasing a little. It earned her a bit more of a smile. In their conversations over the month, he had been forward enough, and she had played along to his pipe. All appropriate, but she liked the look in his eyes.

“Perhaps, madame, but if so, I would not care to admit it.”

Felicia laughed. “Lord Imécourt, would you give me a fairer judgement on the matter? You have some loyalty to King Henry, have you not, after your time at court?”

“Yes,” he flashed one of his charming smiles, “but I must admit I am still French at heart. The best I can admit to is a worthy second in its splendour.” He leaned in closer with a smug smile. “Then perhaps, my answer would not be the same if Louis wasn’t here to hear my treachery.”

He spoke still loud enough for the Duke to hear, who chuckled, and Felicia laughed.

“Then it shall stay undecided until I can form an opinion of my own, with my own eyes. Which sounds like an unlikely event to happen, I afraid.”

“If you and your lord husband would visit the continent, madame, I’m sure an invite to Château de Fontainebleau could be arranged, then you would also get to admire the new gallery my brother is decorating,” the Duke said.

Oh, he should how much she would have liked it, she tried to convey with a pleased smile before adverting her eyes.

“While it is a generous offer, Your Grace, my husband –”

She was interrupted by the fact that someone came calling her name.

“Felicia, there you are! I was looking for you.” Cressida came over, claiming her arm. The younger girl’s face ginning and in her hand a goblet, its content sloshing over the brim to the ground, just shy of her skirt.

“Cressida!” Felicia laughed, half in surprise. “You should spill the wine down your throat, not your dress. I was just talking to the Duke d’Orleans and Lord Imécourt.”

Cressida looked at the men, eyes a bit wider as she in fact had missed their presence. But she was a duke’s daughter after all and quickly found her poise and manners, if still a bit wine clouded.

“My lord, your grace, I do beg your pardon,” she giggled and curtsied, losing her balance just the little. With a tight grip of Felicia’s arm, Felicia felt the pull, but it didn’t show to the men. “It’s a splendid evening, is it not?”

The men agreed merrily.

“What I was saying when you arrived, Cressida,” she directed her attention to the men again, “my husband prefers the quiet life, and while he does not deny me the pleasures at court, I doubt my best attempts of convincing him to take a trip to France would be successful. But now,” she patted Cressida’s arm, “I hope you’ll excuse us.”

Cressida had taken another drink of her goblet, and Felicia thought perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to let her lose among the men again.

“I don’t think you should spill more down your throat either,” Felicia said, arm in arm with Cressida as they were excused, walking away. Taking Cressida’s goblet for herself, both of them fell into giggles.

“Now, why did you want me?”

“I don’t recall exactly.” She burst into more giggles, perhaps she had had more wine than Felicia thought.

“Let us walk and get some fresh air. Perhaps it will come back to you.”

They walked a little away from the clamour of the party.

“Did I pull you away from the gentlemen?” Cressida asked suddenly, as if the thought had just occurred to her.

“It’s quite alright,” Felicia smiled.

“A trip to France, was that what you were talking about?”

“Yes, in a way, I asked about the gardens of Château de Fontainebleau.”

“Travelling to France, it would be grand, wouldn’t it?” Cressida laughed.

“You and I, at the French court,” Felicia mused.

“Bella told me the French court is quite wild. Some of the stories she told me, I would hardly believe them!”

Felicia laughed, yes imagine.

“But you said your husband would not take you, why not?”

“He’s not one for the life of the party, like you and I, he enjoys the quiet life, like I said.”

Cressida looked not at all impressed by this, but then her eyes widened. “Is he perhaps very old then, when you talked about kissing one without teeth – perhaps you spoke from experience!”

“Cressida, you are silly!” Felicia was almost bent over from laughter, it was a good thing they were apart from the crowd. “Arthur is not that old! He is but six years my senior, which is an appropriate age, don’t you say?”

“Is he not good looking perhaps then?”

Felicia didn’t take any slight from the words, rather her gaze grew a little dreamily. She might not had had as much wine as Cressida, but still quite a bit. “He has a very pleasant face, a strong jaw. He is tall,”

“How tall?”

“As tall as the King, I would say” Artur might even have the inch on the King, but it didn’t need to be said. “There was more than one lady out for him, I tell you, but I was the only woman he had eyes for.”

“And you said you love him.”

“Of course I do!”

“Then I don’t understand how you can stand to be apart.”

“Don’t you think some longing for each other can be good for any romance?” Felicia missed Arthur terribly at times, but their letters to each other helped lessen it.

“But how could one in love stand it? Being apart for any period of time.” Cressida tore away and spun so her skirts swirled around her. “Love should be a burning passion, where you want nothing but each other.”

“What love potion have you fallen into,” Felicia tittered, but her mind went racing who could possibly inspire such feelings in her friend. “But if you burned like that constantly, how would you get anything done? How would you get out of bed?”

Cressida shot her a look of pretend shock, which failed into a grin.

“Only the married, of course,” Felicia added with a coy smile.

“Bella cares not at all for Mathias.” Cressida flopped unto the grass lawn.

“The Prince of Bohemia?” Felicia had met the Prince by now but didn’t know any more of the prince than titbits caught from Cressida mentioning the man. She had gotten the impression he was the more silent type. But surely Cressida had not called him by his first name before? But perhaps she should not give too much meaning to it, it could just be the wine. “Is the engagement announced?” Felicia could not imagine something like that would have passed by her.

“No, and if Bella had it her way it never would, I’m sure.”

Felicia felt the grass with her hand, it wasn’t terrible wet from evening dew, so she sat down next to Cressida.

“Is he not agreeable?”

“I’d say he is very agreeable,” Cressida admitted with a sigh.  But then ‘agreeable’ was a safe word to use for most men. “Bella wants me to accompany her when ever she is to meet with him. She cares for it not one bit.”

“Perhaps she loves another?”

There was a contemplating smile of Cressida’s lips, but after a moment she fell into giggles again. “I’d not say you are in love, but yet you claim you are.”

“And I’d claim you are drunk.”

“I don’t deny that,” she said merrily and laid down fully on her back, “my head is still spinning.”

“The wine, I imagine. But you should be careful, as not to catch a chill.”

“I’m fine. Tell me about your beloved then, Felicia.”

“I’ve already told you quite a bit,” she mused but then continued. “I was about ten when it was announced to me that he was the man I was going to marry when I came of age. Since our fathers were close, he would often come and visit. We would walk and ride together, always with company of course. His is a great rider and taught me to become a better one. He was always very cordial,” Cressida snorted, it wasn’t living up to her version of romance. Felicia poked her side, “he always knew how to make me laugh. And every time we met, I think I fell in love with him a little bit more.”

The fabric of her story was a tight weave, enough so that she could pick out threads and the gaps would not be seen. It was true that her young, impressionable, self had fallen in love with him during the years. What she didn’t tell of was when she had followed her father to visit the Morley estate one day, she had run off to search for Arthur and had found him in the stable – kissing the stableboy passionately. Her shocked gasped had revealed her presence before she had even time to think what their hand might have been doing.

Arthur had been nice to her, he had offered to take care of it – that they wouldn’t need to marry in the future, he said he would not ask it of her. But she was already much in love with him and wouldn’t have it any other way, convinced it would be the best for the both of them. And being only thirteen and an innocent, she couldn’t fully comprehend how what she had just witnessed would complicate their future marriage. In a way the incident only made their kinship stronger.

Instead, she told Cressida how a splendid dancer he was, always graceful, how he had kissed her on the mouth for the first time, oh so sweetly, when she was fifteen. All in all, it did sound quite romantic, perhaps a little boring by Cressida’s idea of it.

“I will write to him tomorrow, I think,” Felicia concluded. Talking had made her miss him again, he was perhaps the only one she could be completely honest with.

But Cressida didn’t respond, looking over Felicia saw she had closed her eyes.

“Are you sleeping?”

“No,” a grin spread. “It did sound nice.” Cressida sounded sleepy.

Felicia fell back into the grass herself, looking up at the clear night sky. “We cannot sleep here all night.”

A giggle sounded to the right of her. “Why not? Imagine the faces on the courtiers that would find us in the morning.”

Felicia laughed. “Still, I think I’d prefer my bed. We should perhaps seek them out.”

“You will have to pull me up.”

“I can to that.”

V.

June had arrived and the temperature had started to rise further. Already when she had woken that morning, Felicia could tell the day would be suffocating. The King and his men had ridden out to hunt, leaving as the sun was rising, before the heat struck. They would be gone for the whole day. The sun stood still high in the sky, although it had passed its peak, and Felicia wondered how they were faring on horseback as she was fanning herself.

The ladies had been allowed to retreat and rest a bit during the worst of the heat, as the Queen as done so herself. Felicia had found her body restive, so instead she decided to try to brave the sun and steal down to walk a bit by the river, hoping the walk and the water would provide some relief.

The exercise helped, but she felt as hot as before when she returned to the castle.

When she passed by the courtyard, she saw the Duke of Orleans handing of his horse to a stableboy. He was heading her way, so she paused. Hoping he might catch sight of her, she tucked strands of hair back into place and smoothed her skirts. He never wore much expression, she had observed, something cool and calculating about his face – his gaze piercing. Which only made it even more intriguing when he smiled, and the fiery look she had thought she’d seen behind his eyes – to see it ignited again.

He did catch sight of her, and when she saw his lips curl a little, a shiver went through her, despite the heat. He came over.

“I thought you were going to be gone longer, your grace.” She said with a smile after she curtsied.

“I rode back early.”

“I’m glad.”

“Are you out walking all by yourself, madame?”

“I was on my way back when I caught sight of Your Grace dismounting,” she considered her next words, “hoping you would oblige me and accompany the last of the way.”

“It would be my pleasure.”

She couldn’t help but let a titter slip and they started along the covered walkway. Making conversation she talked about her walk by the river and asked if the hunt had been successful.  The hunting party had ridden down a stag, it’s antlers magnificent, before the Duke had turned back.

“I hope you got a good shot at it.”

“Once I have my sight set on something, my arrow finds it’s mark.”

“I don’t doubt it. I feel that I should apologise for my hasty excuse the other night,” she offered, “I enjoyed our conversation, but I thought it best to walk with Lady Cressida to get some fresh air. She’s a sweet girl.”

“Of course, the Lady was nothing but charming.”

“I think we all have found ourselves with one too many cups during festivities,” Felicia laughed, “but she is young, she should be allowed to indulge, a little.”

“Not only she I hope?”

“Your Grace?” Felica stopped and looked up at him, puzzling, perhaps –

“I hope you allow yourself to be indulgent, madame.”

Her smile widened into a grin. “Is that encouragement, Your Grace?” She stepped a little closer. “Because if it is –”

Her voiced dropped away. There wasn’t any other courtiers or servants in sight. The hallway they had stopped in was perhaps not the most used but if someone came down it, they would be spotted. He reached out a hand to her waist, the motion slight but it urged her to take another step forward, close.

“Yes, your grace?” Her voice quivered. 

“Aren’t you presumptuous,” he said in a low voice, he sounded pleased, as his hand travelled up her bodice, touching the bare skill of her collarbones. His touch had her utter something between a laugh and a sigh. His thumb stoking her chin and coming to rest in the hollow of her throat. Her pules was raising and she swallowed, searching his eyes for the desire her own held. His face was so close to hers, his lips, she pushed forward to catch them, but –

He chuckled, quite cruelly. The slightest of pressure round her throat instructing her to stay in place. He retreated half a step, the feel of his body against hers receded. “Even greedy.” The grin on his face was now devilish.

“I’d be your servant, your grace.” She licked her lips.

“Now what would your husband say to that? Or even your king?” His grip shifted to lifting her chin, his head tilted as he held her gaze.

“They do not occupy my thoughts, not at the moment, there are other more … pressing matters.” Or there had been until he shifted away, through the thinner, summer, petticoats she had been fairly certain. She grinned. “I thought you took what you wanted, your grace.”

“While that may be true, I’m still curious.”

“King Henry would not need know, unless you’d tell him.”

He chuckled. “And?”

He wasn’t going to let her skirt around it, and it flustered her more than what had happened so far. “What do you want to hear? That my lord husband cares naught for what goes on in my bed?” Which was the truth. She laughed playfully. “Or perhaps that knowing how you touch me, your grace, would throw him into fits of rage – some men find that enticing.”

A low growl came from his throat, his other hand curling around a fistful of her skirts. Felicia bit her lip, it took much of herself control to wait and let him act upon it, but she was growing impatient.

“Please– ” She breathed but her lips barely had time to part before he finally gave in.

It was lustful and hungry, the Duke’s hand drifted to the back of her neck, into her hair, tugging slightly. It earned him a moan from her lips and her fingers digging into his upper arm, the other hand resting against his ribcage – it egged him on. The world fell away – at least until the slam of a door echoed through the part of the palace.
   
Breaking their embrace, the sound must have come from elsewhere and they found themselves alone still.

“Luscious,” he breathed close to her ear. A giddy laugh escaped her, her head felt giddy too. “You should be warned, I know your scent now.”

“You are welcome to,” she mused and took a step back, into the proper, “I’m grateful you chose to accompany me, however, I think I have diverted from my duties long enough, I would go and see if my Queen needs me.”

She waited until he gave her the slightest of nods, she curtsied. “Until next time, your grace.”

VI.

Felicia and Cressida had gone to congratulate Sir John, once all the bouts were done for the day and the whole of court were gathered for the following celebrations. Cressida was happy her favoured knight had won his round, and in their congratulations both women perhaps downplayed the part luck had taken in the duel. Who knew the poet held such horsemanship?

In the company of the music and wine, she had found time to exchange a few words with Lord Boleyn about his loss, though by the fact that he was his usual merry self, Felicia perhaps suspected he had not given his heart to winning, the opposite rather. She even had time to tease Sir Francis about his loss, although she did admire his bravery at being back at jousting. The story of him losing the eye had been recapped to her in gruesome detail by one of the ladies that had been present and it had forced her to take some pity on the man, although she was certain he did not need it and she would not admit to it.

“Wine, your grace?”

She was happy at the opportunity to find the Duke d’Orleans all by himself, she might even had kept an eye out, sweeping in once the man who had been speaking to the Duke was pulled away by one laughing lady.

He greeted her silently, a flicker of a smile as he saw her. Accepting the goblet from her outstretched hand, the slightest touch of fingers in the process, she swore she could see igniting behind his cool gaze. He took a sip of the goblet and she smiled. She took a position beside him, perhaps closer than decorum ruled, but not indecently so.

“I hope your pride was not too bruised, your grace.”

“Should it have been any other perhaps,” he chuckled, “but Philippe is family. And a good jouster at that.”

“I’d say he had some luck – ”

“We both know he bested me fairly today, madame,” he cut her off. Perhaps there were some bruising after all. “No need to pretend otherwise.”

There were a few moments for silence before she spoke again.

“I didn’t mean to displease you. I wanted to tell you how glad I am you carried my favour,” she pursed her lips, “even if it did not bring you victory.” She had been pleased then he had asked her of it, even more so to give it to him.

“Your favour recommends me,” he gave her a curt nod. But he had a smirk on his lips and did not look cross with her, so her heart grew a little bolder “And you are not one of the mademoiselles, who might have gotten the wrong idea.”

“Then what right ideas might I get, would you say?” She plucked the goblet from his hand, initiating the slightest of touch again, and pressed it to her lips. He watched her take a drink.

“I think you have plenty,” he leaned in as he spoke, “I remember out last stroll fondly.” He took the goblet from her hands, letting his fingers run across hers before he gripped it. She tittered.

“There is nothing stopping us from taking another.”

“There’s a suggestion,” he drank before he continued, “now, where might this stroll lead us?”

“Wherever you’d like, Your Grace.” Her chest heaved with the words.

“Since you are so eager, might show you my chambers.”

She looked at him, a coy smile presenting, then she dropped her gaze lower. “Perhaps even more, if I’m lucky.”

It wasn’t so hard to steal away, to be sure they would not be alone in doing so. Felicia found herself enjoying her time at court even more this time around, perhaps it was because it lacked the stern face of Catherine of Aragon staring down her nose, disapproving, or perhaps it was because of the added liberty that came with being a married woman. It came with some leniency, her not being a maid ready to be tarnished made it easier to move around court, and with whom. Still, there was always need for some shrewdness with matters of visiting another’s bed, her married title would only protect her so far.

Heels echoed down hallways, Felicia kept her giggles at bay. There was some fear of discovery, when he pulled her into a side passage, she would surely have yelped and given them away if he had not covered her mouth with his. The nearest scones had burned out and they stood shrouded in shadows, her back against the wall, his long hair draped around her face. But the passer-by didn’t care to investigate the noise from the passage, perhaps identified the character of the sound and chose not to intervene.

“Look who’s greedy now,” Felicia mused as she came up for air, she was passed the giggling now. Admiring his face, it yielded little in the lack of light, she ran a finger along the edge of his jaw.

He chuckled. “Let’s hurry along, or I would have you here where we stand.” 

VII.

There must have been a knock on the door, perhaps she had acknowledged it, because suddenly Cressida stood in her chambers.

“You are not up yet!”

“Good morning,” Felicia brushed some sleep from her eyes, she wanted a little more of blissful sleep.

“Haven’t the dressing woman been here yet?”

“I might have sent her away, I just wanted to sleep a little longer.”

“It’s irregular that I would be the one to rose you,” Cressida came and stood by the bed side. “And you disappeared last night.”

“I might have had a little too much wine,” Felicia groaned, hoping it sounded convincingly. She had covered her face with the sleeve of her shift, because if Cressida caught sight of the foolish grin that was plastered on her lips, even the girl would know she was lying.

“Oh,” Felicia could hear the giggle in her voice, “I guess it can happen to the best of us.” So far Cressida had almost started to think Felicia was immune to the headaches.

She went to open the drapes, and Felicia sat up in bed, she had come back in the early hours, catching the first rays of sun, dodging servants in the hallway.

“I could help you dress, if you’d like, do you know what you are going to wear? It such a fine day!” Cressida was almost tripping over her tongue. “Aren’t you excited, who do you think will win?”

"It's going to be a spleandid day, I am dure!" Felicia exclaimed.

Spinning with a laugh to face a still grinning Felicia, Cressida's brow furrowed. “You do not look like you are sick from the wine.”

“After this summer would you call yourself the expert on the matter?” Felicia directed away the inquisitory look with her teasing and they fell into laughter. “I would be very thankful if you would assist me, Cressida.”

“Well, we must hurry, I’d say we are already quite late.”

***

The excitement was in the air, so thick you could almost touch it, vibrating from the laughter and conversation and keeping the courtiers on the edge of their seats when the final was finally upon them. Cressida and Felicia may have arrived a little late to the pre-festivities but had had time to still their nerves a little with some wine, raising perhaps their laughter instead.

And then it was time, the horses where lining up, the riders being handed their lances. Felicia had her head close to Cressida’s, whispering how smart they looked, and then they were of, cantering down the line to shouts of encouragement.

When the collision occurred, with all the electricity of excitement in the air, the discharge was immediate and violent. The courtier flew from their seats as both riders fell, the shouts turning into shrieks because it was obvious it wasn’t pretty. It was gruesome.

Once Felicia had found enough wits to turn her attention on the Queen, who was quite wild in distress, as men ran to tend to the riders. The King lay on his back, and on the other side Sir John – she dared not look. Seeing the Queen was well attended, Felicia instead tore at Cressida beside her, holding her friend close in order to console and seek consolation in equal measure.

And done!

Last edited by tricole (21/12/2020 at 15:10)

Yılmaz Aynişah Hatun bint Vizer Evhad
Age: 19, December 3rd

Aynî isn't done doing nothing at court, she'll attend!

absorption of a world

A few last drops in a cup was left of spring, while they trickle out so does everyone residing within the castle, by the end of the week this large estate would stand empty, awaiting the return of someone; in the wind, it would whine. The doors sprung open, two women skipping out, a basket around one arm and a bottle in the other, feet bare against warm grass; the question of why she was here didn’t linger on her tongue, laughter had it retreat for another time. Simplicity was time spent with Mary, worries faded, no more than a bird song in the background, on tip-toes they reached for the sky only to land beneath the shade the white willow tree; lips stained by wine for their last moments in the castle– just a good excuse for day drinking more.

“– I accepted it to be the ebb and flow of life, highly inaccurate might I add,” Mary tips the bottle, little ants crawling over their feet as if they couldn’t see the clear path right beneath, - “a complot to make women forced into marriage, a notion that there is no other option. When in fact– I’d like to claim we have the cards in our hands,” Aynî acknowledged the dazzling creature which is Mary, admired despite all of the rumors because Mary exuded self-worth.

“So– now you are collecting them? Waiting for a royal flush? A full house?”
“Yes, something along those lines,” the woman nodded, - “seeing if the shoe fits.”
“Is that why there are two? One for each foot?” Aynî giggles, twirling the bottle between her fingers, cheeks flushed.
“One for every day and one for parties,” there’s laughter filling the courtyard, their teeth stained from the wine; she feels selfish, because there was no happiness greater than knowing that you could make the ones you care for a laugh, - “you should try, I wish someone would have told me the first time.”
“The first time you meet your husband to be is on the wedding day–”
“Ugh–” Mary took a deep sip, - “No, you are just going to stay here forever.”
“It is rather stupid, I could just as well walk up to the first best house and that’s it,” when Mary calls her name perils faded into the darkness, instilling a sweet lullaby of safety, she could throw anchor here and be led by the siren song.
“Just– go back a few words, have you ever been alone with a man that is not part of your family,” between slits of porcelain skin a line of blue pops, she squints.
“No– of course not,” Aynî laughs, a hand patting Mary’s leg, - “it’s not allowed,” she adds in a whisper.
“Please Lord give me strength, I mean no– I’ve never heard anything more disturbing or depressing in my life, what a miserable life,” someone could have been told their entire family had been slaughtered and it would be the expression on Mary’s face; between disgust and despair. - “Do you even know what sex is?”
“I’ve heard of it–”
“It’s not a bloody rumor, and it’s wonderful, I think you need to hear that– I mean ten out of ten– with the right person of course, and maybe not the first time around to be honest,” an arm slinking underneath another before they collapse onto their backs, looking up at the clouds floating by, - “if you want to of course.” Mary adds in a lower voice, - “I’ll make sure you are educated before you get there,” there hadn’t been an adult female in her life since the death of her mother.
“Thank you,” Aynî taps her fingers on the warm skin, - “a first kiss would be nice.”
“That’s a start, if you want it to be just over with Louis goes for anyone– anything almost–” tilting their heads their eyes meet and laughter rumbles between them again, more powerful than any thunder any God could conjure up.



She’s been told rumors are not to be paid close attention to, with the men not present they become a storm of whispers between staff and ladies, a witch potion in brewing, puffs of green smoke hanging over their heads. Deluged with thoughts, her head a ship tipped upside down in the storm, would their parched mouths ever be satisfied? A week has passed in the Hamptons, within the same day Demurcu stands on her doorstep, entering and closing the door behind him. - “Here in peace–” he assures with the door closing behind him.

“Were we ever at war?” Aynî chuckles lifting a smile of relief on his face.
“No we weren’t,” he steps inside, pulling up a chair and taking a seat beside her at the vanity, - “I would like to bring up a discussion around sensitive subjects without causing a fuss.”
“You can of course,” she nods in agreement, watching him lick his lips, quick touch to his chin, - “do you have anyone to clear your mind with?”
“I do, which is why I came to this conclusion of us having a sensible discussion,” there’s a moment of silence between them.
“Well– please do go on,” turning from the mirror she faces him.
“I want to gauge your perception of the effects rumors can have,” but he doesn’t look at her, just down into his lap where his hands press against his thighs.
“Avalon is just a myth I am aware,” the joke falls flat between them.
“France is more what I had in mind,” which she can’t help but to laugh at.
“Did you think it was true? I merely concocted it in order to get out of the engagement, nothing more.”
“That’s the point,” he exclaims, his attention on her once again, - “due to a rumor your fiancee was executed, and I hope you understand the implications of what that means, something which wasn’t even true destroyed someone’s life.”
“I had little choice, it’s not the scenario I had in mind– which you should know about me,” speaking in a hushed tone, mostly they laughed it off, but it would always be on her mind.
“My point isn’t bringing up past wounds–” a hand grabs her and he holds it tightly, - “actions have consequences and I do wish for you to look back at this experience with fond memories.”
“You want me to remember that there’s an expiration date of being here– I might not care to take such a fact into consideration,” Aynî pulls her hand away from him, - “I hope you can understand.”
“Your father will be searching for suitable men, he has more influence than I would and I am not–”
“Unsure of what I would end up with if my father does not arrange it,” she cuts him off, a smile falls short on her face, - “I am going out for a walk, let us table this until the day comes.”

and we speak as if we’ve got something to say

Gargantuan meadows open up ahead of them, a knot pooling in the pit of her stomach when the hill drops down air shooting down her spine and the horses sprint in a thrilling state of mind; forgetting the inner struggle– if a woman became tainted by being touched by a man, was it not his hands which were contaminated in the first place? The pressure built up in her chest was let out in a single breath.

“Your mood seems elevated,” Magnus circles around her horse playfully.
“Thank you for taking me out here,” the corners of her eyes crinkled, face competing with the sun who could beam the brightest.
“Everyone needs a break from court, even the most experienced ones– and it reminds me of home,” looping around they trotted forward, easing into a slower pace over a picturesque landscape of yellow and murky brown fields.

“I fear the power struggles in court flies over my head so far, lacking attention span and interest to indulge in the politics,” not wanting to understand played a part; unable to find enjoyment or the need to invest the energy for power and money which she had no need for. Life of a poor would suit her, except for laboring all day, a little field– much smaller than these and some animals might be what she could handle; which she wouldn’t have thought of if she was born into that life.

“There is a danger with being just a pawn at court, you are never not involved even if you can’t see it yet–”
“Is that your subliminal message, are you secretly using me in a power struggle–” with a spark of a wildfire in her eyes - “I’d be an utterly useless pawn.”
“Demucur seems to be moving the pieces on your side,” a sentence which had never been more true, when had she been the one deciding her own life?

“They are trying to find a suitable match, whatever that might mean–” their horses followed along a river running towards a wooded area nearby, a little farmhouse laid nearby - “do they tell them I am highly unstable without a proper register for feelings? What is the selling point?”

“I am privileged– for now, there’s no pressure for me to marry if not out of love, possibly if they thought a suitable ally would align,” a charming smile with otherwise unchanged facial features looked heavily practiced on his face.

“Marrying out of love sounds like something out of a fairytale,” her fingers twirled with the reins as a squirrel skirted along the ground searching shelter towards the trees when they came stomping in.
“Didn’t take you for a pessimist, imagined love was in your daydreams,” an assumption, which was half true.
“You hear whispers of it, but I’ve never seen it or heard a proper tale told of it happening–” not of the everlasting kind, not where it fills the end pages of a book - “I wouldn’t even know what it looked like, but I try to imagine,” she chuckles.
“Buyers market I assume, love at court is a fluid concept, but it happens, some people get their happy endings.”
“Easier– and almost the same if they sold me at a slave market, which is where I am heading at this point,” how much would they get for her? Was her worth a headless chicken?
“Not searching for love, or an arranged marriage– what sort of man would you marry?” Magnus asks, with a gaze of being genuinely interested.
“A simpleton–” a deadpan expression, - “preferably rich so I can leisure my days away or he won’t just care, notice when I am gone,” she looks over at the luscious birch trees lining their path, - “I wouldn’t mind him being a eunuch either– perhaps even preferable.”
“Specific set of traits, usually not found in one man I’d claim,” he asked with mirth.

“I sound ungrateful, which I shouldn’t be– privilege runs in my veins and I was uncommonly unkind towards my cousin, which I had no right to be– I truly didn’t mean to be,” thoughts which expired after a few hours, - “sorry I shouldn’t unload this on you, not on such a beautiful day.”
“Can’t imagine thinking you’d mean to be unkind, and I don’t think he would either if it’s of consolation,” she probably spills too much around him, around most people, seldom did her inner guard come out.

“I imagine you would make a kind father– and husband probably,” she pulls away from the subject with a sincere smile, - “with your face it would be a criminal offense for you not to marry and sire a few children,” a pot of gold sitting there for anyone to grab onto, - “christ don’t even marry, sprinkle them here and there.”

stars drowning at sea

“Why do you support the reformation? I think I’ve grasped what the reformation is about– sort of, it’s slightly fumbled up within all of the symbolism we read and the teachings we can take with us from the bible and–” behind one of the pillars they stop while she catches her breath, hands clasped in front of him Mathias tilts his head waiting for her to continue, - “I lost my trail of thought,” between the words of madness she smiles when looking at him.

“Goodmorning,” Mathias replies and she collects herself, - “early for a deep dive into theological beliefs,” corners of the mouth twitch when he speaks, - “and I doubt there is enough time for me to explain it all right at this moment,” a riptide could smash into his face and he wouldn’t move a muscle.

“Would there be enough time in my life for me to understand?” The sun sparkles in her eye.
“If you listened,” Mathias retorted, admittedly a good point; when your head swirled with a myriad of questions and lately a constant flow of information caused her concentration to waver.
“On your way to practice jousting?” here and there they would exchange a few words between their duties, mostly when she was curious about something or wanted an opinion.
“Mostly how to fall of our horses the correct way,”
“You mount and then push off, mount again and around it goes?”
“Crudely put, yes,”
“I’ll pass on learning, sounds exciting for you,” she chuckled, nudging him with her shoulder when they walked; little pockets of time, she appreciated just those few minutes with the people she met, a casual few words before splitting up.



Everyone has an inner conversation, shaping their thoughts and reactions, Aynî finds herself rather unproblematic, raised to ignore that little voice inside her head and ignore bubbling issues; anger or sadness didn’t dwell in her mind. Mainly it was based on a refusal of admitting to herself or anyone else that there was an ongoing problem, lately it presented her brain capacity with issues, how do you handle strong emotions? Friendship, love even surreal happiness, she found herself allowing those feelings to take over her life, floating on the rush, utterly intoxicated; sunshine all the time makes a desert–

“Heading out Aynişah Hatun?” During the last few weeks she had conversed on different occasions with Emin Ali, naturally the suspicious feeling had gone away during that time.
“I am,” she beams, - “care to join me?”
“I’d be rude in turning an invitation down, would be my pleasure in accompanying you Aynişah Hatun,” lately formalities had dropped when she spoke with others, making it unusual to hear someone be formal.
“If we are to continue exchanging conversations I’d appreciate dropping the formalities, here it’s just Aynî–” no Vizer, she didn’t want to be associated with a title here, it felt easier being no one.
“I could try, doesn’t fall within my comfort zone,” he gives her a smile when they start walking out of the castle.
“Time you broaden your horizons.”
“Engraved into my spine, corporal punishment makes sure of it,” an easy way of control your people, she wasn’t sure if it was worth an applaud, it was highly effective.
“Fear of flogging and decapitation makes people follow the law,” it gave people options, starve or steal and get decapitated, - “hence why I took caution when we first met, some people make it their job of reporting misconduct even in the slightest.”
“I assure you I am not,” he replies with a glint of a smile and hand over his heart.
“Well good– it wouldn’t have suited you to be one,” skirt bunched up in one hand climbing over a fallen tree instead of going around, a good mentality in life, - “and I plan on enjoying my freedom here.”
“At the cost of Demurcu’s sanity,” Emin Ali inquired, hands behind his back while they strolled down a path in the forest.
“Sacrifices have to be made,” Aynî chuckled, - “he’ll have to drag me back home screaming.”
“From what I’ve heard it can be a lonely life for a woman–” it was, loneliness slowly killed the mind, picked you apart until there was nothing left, at least when there was no one else in the household.

“Will this be your first time jousting?” Aynî changes the subject as if they hadn’t been talking about anything else, a small dressing her lips quickly.
“Yes, I am familiar with jereed, interesting to see how it will compare,” horses and wooden sticks, different countries but the men yet had the same general idea.
“Rather barbaric in my eyes.”
“We are boys with swords,” Emin Ali pointed out what she was thinking, - “can you expect the outcome to be different? Men always find ways of showing their prowess.”
“Excuses, there are other ways than knocking each other off horses with wooden sticks,” or so she would imagine.
“There are, but someone needs to walk away with more than a bruised ego I suspect.”
“I suspect no one will allow it to be the king.”
“Tactical point of view– it’d be ill-advised,” he nods, - “heard from your cousin that despite appearance you are well versed with strategic games, his exact words.”
“Father would insist on playing, find it rather dull these days– I would not be your equal in a game,” she kicks which tumbles down the path when they reach it Emin Ali continues the gesture by kicking it as well, - “never move to the first spotted opening,” she added in a chuckle.
“Persistence and patients take you further,” which was his basic foundation she figured.
“Exactly what I do not have, nor do I share your sharp mind, Kaptan Pala–”
“Different people, different talents– you do have a sharp tongue instead.”

out of touch

Spring blossoms into summer with heavy rain like a rapture ending one season to begin anew, she leaves a scent of hyacinth running over the green lawn, castle in sight yet too far away; she was the way she always was, beautiful but out of place, was that how she intended it to be?

Fumbling fingers fling the chapel door open, mid-step she stops with a shiver; reminded that she’s pure in mind and body, the inside reflects the outside– tiny. A giant rises from the single dark wooden bench taking up most of the interior, a drizzle starting to gain more force by every second drip on her; something nestles in the back of her mind. One, two– she counts his steps but can not hear them over the rain, his touch is light when he brings her over the threshold.

“You’ll get sick,” he closes the door behind her and the rain becomes just background noise, her lips part without a sound leaving her tongue, - “uncommon for you to be speechless,” a candle illuminates the room behind him, she wonders if it’s he who takes up all the air because she can scarcely take a breath.

“I did not think anyone would be here,” she replies when air fills her lungs, hands clasped in front of her.
“Does my presence bother you?” There’s a lightness to his voice, he takes a step back, - “would you rather I stand outside in the rain?” He asks with a look of amusement in his face.
“Of course not,” she scoffs in laughter, yet her face reads of uncertainty, - “being caught here in a summer storm all alone would not be amusing.”
“I would assume the same,” they stand on each side of the bench, sitting down at the same time next to each other, - “are you afraid I will do something?” eyes set on the small table serving as an altar in front of them.
“No, more of myself–” words slip out regretfully causing laughter from the man, - “I mean, I’ve just never been alone with a man outside of my family before,” she twirls a piece of fabric around her finger and untwirls it before repeating the process again.

“Apart from all the sisters in my family I am used to being around the women I’ve–” she thinks he was supposed to say something comforting or funny.
“All the what?” she clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth, - “all the women you’ve– courted,” the light turns her eyes sparkling ember and she expects he means all the ones he had gone to sleep with; there’s a melange of flowers blooming in her chest, they tickle the back of her throat.

“Yes,” he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck, and she had to admit at least to herself she found him attractive– she doesn’t know where to put it, was there a shelf inside of her mind where it should go?
“How many sisters do you have?” There’s a large crack in the stone floor, it breaks off into smaller ones ending by where the wall took over, it helps to look at, occupy her mind.
“Too many to count on one hand, six–” from the corner of her eye she sees his smile, how the light hit his chiseled face.
“They must miss you.”
“It’s a large household, might not even notice I am gone,” she tries to imagine how it would be but fails, - “what about you?” Mathias sits, half turned towards her, their legs nearly bumping together.
“No– well yes, a half-brother, he’s not actually part of the family–”
“Got it,” Mathias nods, - “just you and your mother most of the time?”
“She died when I was young, it was just me– which is why I am a bit socially– awkward, inept, something along those lines,” she laughs it off, eyes wandering over the empty alter; it had been long abandoned by worshippers who built it.
“Sounds lonely,” it was, she thinks to herself, so lonely she thought she would perish sometimes.
“I am rarely lonely here.”
“Are you planning on returning?” Would she have peeled her heart for a true answer it would have been not alive, but she doesn’t, it’s pushed deeper down.
“I don’t have much of a choice,” her shoulder shrugs and she runs out of things to look at in the chapel, - “been playing with the thought of asking them to sell me here,” she hummed and met his eyes.
“How much would they want?” he asked, arm casually swung over the back of the bench, head resting in his palm.
“A prince shouldn’t buy cheap trinkets,” the corners of her eyes crinkle and her nose scrunches up slightly.
“I’d imagine there’s some value here–” warm fingers lift her chin, instinctively she takes a deep breath, turning her face in his palm, - “to the right person,” his eyes wander over her face but she doesn’t retreat her look from his.
“Not that cheap,” she snickers, taking his hand in her own when he leans in towards her, - “you don’t know how to court a woman,” without moving away from him, her fingers squeezing his hand.
“Implying you’d like me to court you?” There’s a look of confusion on his face.
“Th- that’s not what I implied,” she laughed, feeling the heat from his hand under her fingertips linger, - “you are betrothed after all,” she whispers, unsure if it’s to remind herself or not.
“Yes, exactly-” he turns his head, a jewel in her headpiece softly jingled in his breath, - “I am not married.”

there are few things I’d change

“Come on,” rosy cheeks and bare feet, in the moonlight she becomes a beacon with her porcelain skin, with berry-colored lips they flee into the night; their giggles scattering with the wind with a rose petal scent– and a need for their life to be a masterpiece. - “All in good fun,” Mary reassures, like oil all her worries slinks away. Desperate to be a part of this world, a tug of hesitation in her marrow, a sea of back and forth, she wants to kiss a stranger and not care, shamelessly dance the night away with a glass in her hand– get to feel hair tickle her cheek; she wanted to live. With the stealth of an elk they move forwards, through the trees until they can hear distant voices, from one tree to another they crouch until they reach the bushes by the side of the lake by a clearing, the moon has begun rising in the sky.

“This is what everyone does in English court?” Aynî trails after the woman, looking everywhere but forward nearly causing a collision.
“Sort of– yes,” locks of hair move from side to side when she speaks, - “they’ll find it hilarious.” Certainly they could hear the beating behind her ribs, thumping loudly in her ears when they crouch behind a nearby bush, Mary peaks her head up quickly– from memory she knows it’s Leopold, Magnus, and Mathias which would have been better not to know. - “Stay here I’ll go and nab their clothing,” the woman whispers in a hushed voice before a hand on her arm stops her.
“I’ll go,” Aynî says in a dry, husky voice when all the saliva has drained from her mouth; she’ll always remember this night. With caution she ends up tumbling out of the bush like a wild boar running from the hunt, Mary breaks down in a larger than life laughter, the bush shakes, - “she stumbled–” the laughter bounces between the trees, and Aynî leaps back in retreat to recoup with a fist full of garments; their judgment could have been impacted by the few glasses of wine they’d had before, at this point it was hard to tell with her heart in her throat.

“We can hear your giggling,” even with a hand muffling their laughter the leaves on the bush shake, - “hope you ladies are enjoying yourselves?” towering over the bush Magnus stands dripping wet with a leftover clothing article covering what he must be crown prince over, Mary dries her tears in an attempt to recollect herself.

“Good on you Magnus–” unabashedly Mary’s gaze rolls from top to his toes, -” good for you,” she repeats while sitting up, a small smile gracing her lips.
“Darn it I could have sworn this was where I lost it,” fumbling on the ground Aynî mindlessly clutches even harder around the clothes.
“What– our clothes? Your dignity?” she looks up at his amused expression, deeply wishing she had never looked in the first place.
“I don’t know, most likely both at this point–” the clothes dangle from her hand which he carefully nabs, with as much dignity as she can muster they stand up, Aynî waves unsure of what the social code was for this situation.
“Why are you waving at them? That’s even worse than blatantly looking–” a shoulder nudges Aynî and hands find each other, she catches a gleam of Mathias waving back at her with a grin on his face.

They are running hand in hand, laughter rolling off their tongues, and you clench your fingers around her harder as if the trees would swallow her if you didn’t; cascades of blond hair tosses around when she throws a smile behind her at you– for the first time you understand the feeling of dread, you just never had enough to lose before, now it felt as if there was everything.

leave it in the dark

She’s a forest in a vase, petals moving in the wind, flowers attached to the silk over her hair, but she doesn’t feel like a garden, not one anyone would envy, more the gardener with dirt under her fingernails and scratches from thorny rose bushes. Once when she was younger and buried her mother she told herself it would help her grow, flowers always bloomed more beautifully over the soil of the dead. Dive in headfirst and don’t overthink– don’t overthink– she watches him dance, his company has long blonde hair and from memory, she knows there’s a pretty face, the sisters Gascoyne were youthful and most of all beautiful– there’s a tingle in her hand, they shake, so she turns towards her company between Magnus and Mary.

“Would you like to dance,” they had been talking about something, she can’t remember what but they break the conversation, she can see Mary smiling and taking a sip from her drink, unbothered by the sudden interruption, - “a sudden urge to move, must be the wine,” she excuses with a faint pull in the corners of her mouth.

“If we dance it should be properly– chin up,” her line of vision is interrupted and she lifts her gaze towards Magnus, - “that’s it, may I adjust your stance?” Celebrations and spirits were high that evening, most events thrown by the royalties had been and for a moment her mind went blank.

“I trust you, most of the time,” he smiled, placing his hands on her shoulders to straighten her posture with a light touch, the weight lifted from her chest with it.
“You are not a sack of potatoes,” 
“I wouldn’t put it past me,” the words are pebbles falling out of dry lips, she shifted her weight growing even taller.
“A woman should have elegant posture, that’s how you get away with anything,” the world came into focus again.
“And what should a man have?”
“Oozing charm?” With the look of a triumphant child, the man chuckled.
“Well– you actually got plenty of it,” thoughts surrendering and going back into their slumber; for what was the meaning with anything?
“You too,” Aynî appreciated his company greatly, his friendship had a worth to her, - “it’s a celebration everyone dances, we are dancing,” she isn’t used to solace and there’s a softness with it which she can’t swallow.
“I don’t care, or I care beyond words– it’s a thought I am not going to play with,” and with every second the flowers are wilting– perhaps no one can tell yet.
“If your heart had a voice what would it say?” They move slowly, following the line of dancers across the room.
“Stop being stupid,” she smiles and looks up at the man, - “something along those lines.”

Hands were violent, weapons forged and wielded by them, their tool of destruction; until wielded by man's desire they are no more than objects. Aynî doesn’t relish in unnecessary violence– but she could see the appeal for men, imagining they couldn’t be heavy; she peeks over her shoulder before reaching out and grabbing one of the lances leaning against the wall. Why-am-I-such-an-idiot was spelled on her face when she stumbled a step backward, a second passes a valuable second which should have been used moving away and not getting the lance in her face but all she can think at the moment is why she was so stupid.

“I would suggest the lighter versions of the lance,” Emin Ali pushes the lance up and away from her face, putting it back against the wall on its resting place, the woman took a second glance, noticing that there indeed were a few which weren’t as tall.

TBC, not done yet it seems, nearly at least

Nearly got it done...

Last edited by Mimira (20/12/2020 at 21:54)

Name: Lucrezia Girault
Age: 20/21, depending on when the birthday is
Interests: Otto, Magnus, Blanca, Avis
Coming back if there's another season: Yes. If time allows?

i. tethered

The gardens were, this of the time, pleasant - balmy, flowering, the scent of fruit and green heavy in the air. Lucrezia had taken the opportunity to slip out of the palace, having been relieved of her duties for the day, and was sat outside in the warm sun doing needlework. Today was ordinary practice: stitching floral borders and hems, in anticipation of Her Majesty the Queen distributing the stitched pieces of clothing through the populace later. There were still a few pieces that needed to be done, and Lucrezia would like to keep her needlework neat and tidy.

The sound of crunching gravel and idle conversation drifted over, somewhere off in the distance. For a moment, she thought she registered voices, but she let it slip past, focusing on making her cross-stitches as neat and orderly as possible. She was midway through another series of ornamental stitches when she realised the voices were coming closer, and that she recognised one of them: Leo’s, to be exact. Accompanied by an equally familiarly accented voice. Lucrezia wondered if she ought to bolt: she enjoyed both - separately. Alone, that was. Put together, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to see the sight for herself.

But it was too late, and she saw the two round the corner: one was the lighter brown, easier stride of Leo, holding himself the way he always did whenever he was in prestigious company; next to him was the golden prince of Sweden, Lord Magnus, the two men talking amicably. About what, Lucrezia could only guess, but they were coming her way.

Her eyes met Leo’s first, and he gave her a small, warm smile - so different from the wide, expansive ones that she’d seen him grin at with other people. His Grace noted her next, and inclined his head. That was her cue, so she set aside her embroidery and curtsied to the two of them.

“Mistress Girault,” His Grace said, bowing, as Leo echoed “Sister.”

“Your Grace. Brother. What brings you to this corner of the garden?”

“I was on my way to see you, sister. I met His Grace on my way here, and we were both headed towards you, as it were.”

One of Lucrezia’s eyebrows went up.

“I hope the conversation will not be too taxing?”

“I doubt it, given our past conversations,” His Grace said, still smiling. “Your sister is rather different from the others at court, I’ve discovered.”

“You can thank our lord father for that, he insisted she read as widely as she could manage.” Leo’s smile turned a little teasing. “Perhaps you should start writing your own religious tracts, sister.”

“And be made a fool of the more well-read experts?” Lucrezia’s smile never wavered in turn, because she knew the truth of the world, what Leo’s words held. “Perish the thought. My tracts will be good kindling. But you did not come to tease me in esteemed company, did you?”

“How dare you, sister?” Leo was chuckling now, and for a moment, it was the two of them again. But Lucrezia remembered a little better, and inclined her head to His Grace.

“Forgive us. We are only two years apart, and we had little else beyond each other when we were younger.”

His Grace looked amused - or perhaps it was politeness, caught between two siblings who were, for some, a little too in-tune with each other, too accustomed to what one said and what the other knew. Lucrezia chose to chase those thoughts away, and gestured to the seats with her.

“Will you two be staying? The summer is pleasant and balmy enough for a light conversation.”

“I was hoping to speak with you, Mistress Girault.”

His Grace spoke, his voice friendly, warm, but Lucrezia thought she caught a glimpse of steel in that look. Leo must’ve seen it too, because his glance flickered to her, as if asking, “Will this be alright?”

Lucrezia considered this: who His Grace was, their conversations in the past. Another moment passed, and Lucrezia gave Leo the slightest nod. Her brother’s smile was back, but now it was back to the smile where he had secrets to hide, things he wanted to say.

“I will fetch us all refreshments,” Leo said, stepping away. “You shan’t vanish on me, would you sister?”

“Sometimes I think you wish I would!” she called to his retreating back, and heard his laughter echoing in the halls. Lucrezia let the noise stay with her, still ringing in his head, and she returned to His Grace.

“You mentioned you had something you wish to speak with me about?”

His Grace indicated the chair, as if asking her to sit. Manners dictated she should, so she gathered her skirts, seated herself on the bench, and clasped her hands in her lap.

“Your well-being, Mistress Girault. There has been much going about at court now.”

“After the wedding and the masquerade, I daresay things are calming down somewhat.” She kept her hands in her lap, listening, watching. It was important enough to ask Leo to leave - unspoken or otherwise. But she knew His Grace well enough that there was the usual pleasantries, song and dance, and he would cut to the heart of the matter.

“You haven’t heard the news flitting around then.” There was a twist to His Grace’s smile, something harder, a little sharper.

“If you’re speaking of marriage -”

“Mistress Girault, that is all anyone will speak of.”

“It is a common past time here, Your Grace, you cannot fault people when all there is to speak of is Her Majesty the Queen’s pregnancy, and all the nobility here eager to make their mark on the world.”

“You are not one of them?”

Lucrezia shrugged, easy, calm. “I am a lady-in-waiting, Your Grace. Like it or not, Her Majesty the Queen already has. History will tell if the rest of us are remembered.”

“I have heard otherwise.” And the edge was back again, something sharper. Lucrezia met his gaze, even as she pleased, and wondered if this was what people meant when they called His Grace the warrior prince. Even when he was friendly, now, something about this was piercing, searching. She rather hoped she would not be on the receiving end of the unfriendly side of it.

“Your Grace?”

His Grace looked pensive, as if turning thoughts over in his head, weighing them.

“Have you ever been with royalty before, Mistress Girault?”

“I serve one every day, Your Grace. There is little I do not see, short of His Majesty the King sending us away when he wishes to have some privacy.”

“I meant - to be with them. To see what they do, what they carry, their duties.”

“Some. I do not know all of it.” Lucrezia frowned. “Your Grace - is there something on your mind?”

“In some ways, yes.” His Grace’s smile was smaller, dimmer, and for the first time in a long while, Lucrezia read something else: worry. She tilted her head, the furrow in her brow deepening.

“I have heard - rumours. Gossip, if you will. And if they are true, my lady, then you must be prepared for what is to come.”

Another pause, and he shrugged.

“I do not wax lyrical, but indulge me for now. You have seen falcons, yes?”

“My brother practises falconry. My lord father refuses, but I would like to try, someday.”

“And do you think they would prefer to be free, or to be set loose on someone else’s whim?”

Lucrezia had no answer to that, but His Grace was studying her very intently.

“I am not saying they will be ill-treated - far from it. Some make a fine prize. But some wings will be clipped, and they will never be able to fly too far again.”

“It will be the same for anyone taking the throne. They may be the finest in the land, but one wrong move, and - well.”

His Grace exhaled, and he was no longer smiling. Neither was Lucrezia, his words seeping into her, cold, grounding.

“There will still be friends. Some truer than most.” His eyes were wearier, heavier. “But all will be different, when one is no longer gentry and instead royalty. You must watch your step, Lady Lucrezia - if the rumours are true, I wish you all the happiness - but also the wisdom that you must have.”

The words sunk into Lucrezia’s mind, the sun no longer warm on her back. Of course, His Grace turned the topic to warmer things, easier things, and when Leo returned with attendants and sweetmeats, there was enough time to sit and chat a while. It brought a small smile to Lucrezia’s face, to watch Leo hang off His Grace’s every word.

How long would she have to enjoy this, this peace, this anonymity? She hadn’t realised the news had spread so soon, so far. It stayed with her, even as Leo asked her what the matter was. She promised she’d tell him later - she would. She would not keep this from her brother, perhaps ask him for advice later. But for now, she kept the words to herself, and sat in her chambers that night, hands folded in her lap, thinking.

ii. sehnsucht

The last time Lucrezia had enjoyed this, they had been caught in that indeterminate half-space, not sure where they stood. Now, here, they’d gone out riding in the forests behind the Hampton Court Palace, Etha grateful for the exercise - and they’d left their horses behind, into the wooded paths for them to explore.

Her hand had found his arm, tucked herself into it, and they walked side by side, closer than propriety would allow. But he had asked, and she had accepted, and in moments like these, she could push away the thoughts that threatened to overwhelm her on days.

His Grace Prince Magnus’s words had stayed with her long after their idyllic chat in the sun, and she found herself watching Her Majesty the Queen. Did she have that nervousness too? Or was she so convinced that she was prepared, ready for it?

She’d given His Grace her promise. He’d been so warm, so pleased then, and she liked to watch him relax, the tension bleed away when she was in the same room, or close by. They hadn’t so much embraced as sat side by side, quietly enjoying each other’s company.

Leo had, of course, been mildly insufferable ever since she had quietly broken the news to him so he wouldn’t fall away in a dead faint. As brothers were wont to do, he had been concerned, warm, but then there were those questions…

“Sister?” he’d asked, as she sat reading her Latin poetry. “You are aware he does spend most of his time in councils and politics?”

“Yes, Leo, I am aware, he was away for most of the Great Matter last season -”

“And that he does prefer books?”

“Yes, brother dearest, we do read together in the library -”

“You jest?” Leo had looked so scandalised at that, Lucrezia bit back a laugh. “What about walks? Horse rides? Falconry?”

“We do that, at times.”

“And no - grand, sweeping gestures?”

“Leo, just because you prefer the courtly, romantic gestures of love -”

“Sister, he isn’t much of a fighter either.”

“He fights plenty well enough, Leo, stop fussing.”

“All I am saying is - will you be alright? If he takes you off to Bavaria -”

“It will be fine, Leo. I will write, and I hope I should be able to visit if I can.” She smiled faintly at her fretting brother. “We will - see. With time.” I hope went unspoken.

But that was then, and here was now. They had rounded one of the pathways, overlooking the lake and the gently gliding ducks on the surface. Someone had set up a bench there, and they sat down together, Lucrezia relinquishing her grip on His Grace’s arm - only for him to catch her hand, lacing his fingers through hers.

He had been doing that a lot, ever since she had agreed to - whatever this was. He’d written back to his brother first, despite his father still on the throne. Lucrezia was reminded briefly of the Hochadel, then pushed that thought out of her mind as well. She did not need to start reciting what title was where - and what a strictly English-born lady fit in that.

She was, however, rather amused when at one of the dinners, His Grace had caught sight of her, watching her with a smile until one of his courtiers had to get his attention back with an accidental trip. Lucrezia had tried to bite back a smile through the rest of the meal.

Here, now however, her and His Grace had sat down, side by side. She had heard of couples slipping off, somewhat inspired by the Baron’s marriage, but - this was what she and His Grace were. Touches were scant, quietly won, and discreet where they could, and that only built longing more than anything else.

“Is there something on your mind?” His Grace asked - so strange to think of him as anything else, still - and his voice brought her back to him. She saw his frown, and she shook her head.

“Only the peace.” She squeezed his hand, angling herself so her knees were brushing against his. “On some days, I wonder if I am dreaming.”

“Then we both are.” His Grace’s smile grew. “You have been quite busy these few days.”

“As have you - I thought I had lost you to more council meetings than ever.”

“I will be at liberty to see you when this is approved - finalised.”

“I do not wish to consider what is happening back in Bavaria.”

“You do not need to fret.” He pulled her hand into his lap. His eyes were soft, watching her, and Lucrezia almost forgot to breathe. “It is a matter of time - and if I can, it will not be left-handed either.”

“You need to be careful,” Lucrezia said quietly. “I do not want to see you caught up in any political messes like last seasons.”

“So you admit it was a mess?”

Lucrezia hummed. “The Spaniards are exiled, England has been excommunicated, new faces are all at court - I would not call it a mess. Perhaps I misspoke - a change would be better.”

“Some would like to profit off said change.”

“I think we came out well enough from it.”

“We did. How did I overlook you, while you were in Bavaria?”

“I was quiet, maid-of-honour to Her Grace in Bavaria - I heard you were more interested in law.”

His Grace hummed. “I was to support my brother. I am not a strong fighter -”

“Hush, you are plenty strong - even in Bavaria you had your reputation. You are a good administrator, a good-hearted man. You are here, in England, navigating a schism and the thorniest issue in recent memory.”

A pause, and His Grace considered her words.

“You are too kind, my lady.” But he was smiling again, affection clear in his eyes. “But enough of me. You said you had been reading again?”

Lucrezia could talk about that, hand tucked in his. They got up while she told him about Knight of the Swan, his words and writings, and how refreshing it was to read something so far out of imagination. It was dusk when they finally made their way to their horses, Lucrezia warmed and buoyed.

When they parted, she dared to lean in and press a kiss to his cheek, and was rewarded by widening eyes and him being more reluctant to pull his hand away from hers. She wondered if anyone had seen, but she could hardly care less.

He had faith it would be fine. Why shouldn’t she?

Just... keeping it short, if there is one more I'll make it, if not, count this complete...?

Last edited by Jadis (21/12/2020 at 17:47)

I’m enjoying this so much & given our general speed, I’ve asked for a permission to extend the contest a bit more.

So...

Permission Granted: Contest must close no later than Dec 20 at 23:15

My ladies,

I'm closing this chapter 1 1/2 of The Tudors, ironically called Always the Same.

It's been a pleasure visiting & revisiting these wonderful characters and while I'll make time to do some pretty banners & post the result tomorrow at this time, right now I'll close this chapter, with three snippets relevant for the possible upcoming season.

Hopefully, all four of you join me there C:

Oh, and let me know what you think C:

xx

All that lives must die, passing through nature to eternity

Otto sat on the ground next to the door, blood spilling from his fingers, and while most of him knew Sir John was beyond salvation, part of him hoped he was wrong. Touching on the topic of mortality was not far from his nature, yet he finds himself distraught beyond his understanding at this moment of terror he just witnessed. Brows furrowed, he stares into the ground, feeling an arm on his shoulder a second later, looking at Leopold who stood up as some footsteps approached from the adjacent room, barely standing up in his armour still.

There's some yelling and raised voices, and before he could get up, William storms out of the room and down the hall, passing by Leo who had enough sense in him not to try to stop the man, staying silent instead.

Maximillian, sitting on the ground opposite to Otto lifts from the cold stones, holding onto the wall. His face sinks with his heart as he noticed Robert walking up to the doors, shaking his head once, slowly. Max turns, slamming his clenched fist into the wall behind him, letting out a scream before storming off through the hallway.

Leopold, left there with Otto and Robert, as the bloodied doctor left the corpse in the room, looked to both sides, wondering if there was anything at all he is supposed to say - he did not know John enough to offer some support. He did not know Otto, nor Robert enough to know if he should.

Perhaps, he thinks, he could do the one thing he knows should be done.
So, he nods to Robert, turning on his heel and walking towards the small chapel on the opposite side of the courtyard, heart heavy. The doors open easily, and he finds the small bell easily, pushing it a time or two, announcing to the world they have lost yet another soul.

There’s a divinity that shapes our ends

For better, or for worse, she decided to wear red today.

Blood did not show - not his, not hers.

"Your grace," soft, but clearly not calm voice snaps her out of it. Anne blinked a few times, feeling the burden on her neck, in her chest, the shortness of breath as she looked up, tears bottling up in her eyes, she tries to catch that breath, still holding his hand in hers.

Eyes fly from Philippe to George, ignoring the presence of so many doctors, healers, scholars standing there next to the dead king. It was quiet, asides the soft voice that snapped her out of it. She squeezed his palm, but nothing is happening.

"Anne."

Mary is there, on her knees, next to her, she noticed just now, brows furrowed, as her sweet sister reached out for her palm and Anne smiled at her, lightly, pulling Henry's hand a little bit more. She glanced at the other part of the room, and Anne notices Francis, tearing up from his corner, hands crossed on his chest as someone turned to him and he waves his hand towards the door. The room clears a little bit, but the main point of the setting remains the same.

"Anne," there's a more determined sound, she can see Philippe pick himself up, backing towards the door as Louis stood towards the light. -"You need to pick yourself up now."
"Shut up," Mary spits the words, brows furrowed, as she looked at her sister, then brother in hope for some support. Louis did not pay a moment of attention to her, staring at Anne Boleyn's expression.

Louis is annoyed - more than all else, pushing Philippe to the side as he walked over to the queen, almost lifting Mary and setting her to the side, kneeling next to the red dress and taking her palm into his, catching her attention, and, once their eyes locked, he drew a breath. It felt like no one else did, and while he might have expected this from both Philippe and George, distraught by the tragedy, he didn't think Francis would be the same.

For a second, he said nothing, standing there in silence, before he realized he stood in a room full of people unaccustomed to these things. In the end, only a handful know the possible perils of the death of an heirless king.

"Get out!" he turns all of a sudden. No one moved, so he did - standing up. -"Get out."

Mary, nearest to him, reaches out for George, doing as they were bid, leaving with Philippe.

"Anne," Louis gets back to her eye level, grasping her face into his palms, getting her attention, tears start to stream. -"You need to listen to me now," he said. -"Whatever happens next will become your fate."

Francis, still standing in the room, silently staring a the scene: a huge bed with canopy, a French prince on his knees, an English queen sitting in her red dress next to a king bathed in blood, dead on the bed.

(Note: you will find out on the morning after, at the part of the round where I asked you to finish your story)

Do you think I meant country matters?

The entire court took the announcement with great shock, with great pain and then the uncertainty prevailed.

The news ran fast - the newly reformed country was now without a King, without a religious leader, without an heir, left in the hands of a queen so many considered illegitimate. A babe in her stomach might have been a myth and while the most was focused on seeking out Anne Boleyn and seeing what comes next, there are a few people walking about seeking out some other people.

Lord Vasa walked into the great hall looking for the Mistress of the Robes, apparently unseen since last evening when she tended to the Queen and returned to her chambers. Ladies have not seen her this morning - there's a moment of silence at a point as the Queen walks through the hall - before another disturbance.

"My lord," Magnus turns to the sound of a voice coming from behind him, just as Lady Cressida walked towards him. -"I'm afraid I need your help," the man said.

Magnus did not have the opportunity the talk to the young clergyman before, but the distraught expression on his face made the older man examine the scene a little bit, watching the small spackles of red on his fingers - he looked up immediately.

"There's a woman," he says under his breath. -"In the garden... I'm afraid she's dead."

Cressida walked into the end of the sentence, shocked expression on her face.
"Dead?" her voice carries across the silent, almost empty hall.

"Lady Cressida," Magnus turns towards her. -"Please keep your voice down until we--"
"Who's dead? What woman?" she ignores the man in a brief flash of panic and turns her attention to Nicholas, attracting a few more people around.
"Please," Magnus tried again, brows furrowed as he locked eyes with Mathias across the room - he noticed something was happening - approaching immediately.
"Lady Cressida," he tries, and her attention shifts.
"You don't understand," she grasps onto his forearm. -"I cannot find Bella, my lord, but they said someone is dead, and I cannot find Bella, I..." she tries to breathe, collapsing onto the bench behind her, Mathias catching her last moment, glancing at the other two men.

"What is she talking about?" Mathias asked, confused.
"There's a woman in the garden," Nicholas finally repeats himself. -"Dead."

There's enough commotion to attract more people, soon enough Emin Ali joins the small group there.

"Maybe it's time to keep this quiet until we know for sure if there's--"
"I assure you, my lord," Nicholas cuts him off. -"The lady is as dead as they get."

Within a few words, Nicholas, Magnus and Emin Ali vanished, leaving a few others, including Mathias and sobbing Cressida in the hall.

By the time they got back, the court was notified about the corpse of a young woman discovered in the garden.

Thank you for participating, everyone, hopefully, you will join me whenever we continue with this mess

I cannot decide on one winner, everyone was here to have a good time and get some creativity going - I hope we did!

Honestly, I was in love with everyone, so instead of doing banners - because I have zero time, right now, I'd love to tell you a bit about my own view of the majestic paper people you brought to the table <3

My love at first sight, wonderfully mischievous Lady Felicia took me by surprise and grasped my heart from the first second - she fit into the crowd and stood out simultaneously, she managed to win people over and slip into this intimacy with them easily... But, the layers you managed, Tric, cannot even - the complexity within two rounds of a person, kudos. Hope she comes back, I would be heartbroken if she didn't!

Then, lovely Hatun Ayni, who stormed herself into being quite soft and feminine, and a fierce creature demanding her respect at the same time - it wasn't that big of a shock, honestly, Mira & I go back a long way, and to cut this short: your writing has been missed. Not having her return for another season of starry eyes, exploring the court, living the lavish western life... will not do!

And, we're reaching my MVPs, cannot even show how happy I was to have you back!

Lovely Luca & her royal love story, I've missed the insightful witness, political views and snippets, as well as this endearing, soft, slow-burning fire between her and Otto - so many TMI questions happened between us about this bit, not even cool. With her brother around, I couldn't have asked for more, honestly. Jadis' ability to flash out these 3D people is something I was familiar with for a while, yet I did not know I missed Luca until I saw her again.

And my tortured babe, whose romance I've been cheering since season one and one of the rare people who made me jump my ship (puns intended), Duchess Colette is now part of this story, touching almost every life I've been writing about. Finding out you were under the weather made me sad, not only because of the obvious but because I figured I'd see much less of Colette than I hoped for!

Last edited by Zaralee (21/12/2020 at 21:53)