The Lion of Scotland

“ciamar a tha thu a ’faireachdainn an-diugh” she asked running her fingers through his wild mane feeling his hand upon her in its closeness. Mei Xiu asked how he was today wondering the answer among other things. There were simple pleasures in life that were luxuries for rulers and nobles alike she envied every day people over. She’d been conditioned overtime to rise early, gracefully to become each day a person to be relied upon through every hour. Sleeping in was something she envied greatly and though the option to do such a thing lingered in the air it was a luxury for her. A well earned treat. Mei played with the idea as she curled his hair around fingers remembering such an action when they were younger. She had after all these years fallen truly and madly in love with the man beside her as she loved his country that had adopted her into its arms. Finishing the bit of pastry she hummed softly shaking her head.

“True. Then again if this were home there would be dogs in my bed” She spoke, brushing the fingertips of a newly freed hand along his jaw line. “Six or seven large hounds who hog all the space. Do you remember that winter we were pregnant with Lina and I was not as acclimatized to the weather and you not only had me hugged to your side with thick furs and all of those dogs? I actually miss that. I can be persuaded not to be but we are guests here and there is an event we must be present at eventually.”

Her Gaelic always brings a big, stupid grin to his face.  And if that wasn't telling enough, the nuzzle against her hip is answer enough to how he's feeling.  Content.  He's content enough to stay with her in bed, reminiscing about times that were far less certain, but still fond in hindsight.

"Now.  There were only three dugs, four at most," he teases her cheekily, although to be honest he could barely remember.  The dogs were the least of his thoughts that night.  Not with a bairn on the way and a blizzard at their door.  

"That was a helluva snow.  Half thought you were going to take the bairn and head back to China the moment you were able."

Not that he could have entirely blamed her.  Both Scotland (and himself) had managed to show her the worst in the early years.  He's lucky, perhaps, she was stronger than he had originally took her for.  More sensible too, although that meant in times like these she pushes him to be a better man and King.

Somewhat begrudgingly, Henry stretches out, then finally pulls himself up into a sitting position.  He steals a piece of fruit from her plate, but pays it so little mind he doesn't even know what it is until he pops it in his mouth.  (Strawberry.)  Instead his gaze is fixed on his wife, giving her another grin and an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

"But you're right, hen.  Per usual.  Might as well get it over with."

    her father’s presence is always a force to be reckoned with –- far different than lina’s quiet nature that could allow her to creep up on even the most observant of royals. she appreciates that, his tenacity, something she could probably use more of ( though probably not to the full extent he does ) and even now, it makes her smile. “ chuseok gifts, of course. ” she sounds like her mother then when she tips her head questioningly. “ it’s a gift-giving holiday, father. i thought it might be an easy way to maintain harmony with some of the others here. after all, i wouldn’t want scotland to develop a reputation of being… frugal. ” certainly it wouldn’t be a good look to skimp out on a holiday centered around giving. “ yours is here too, and mum’s, so don’t get too nosey and spoil the surprise. ” she leaves out who else she’s prepared gifts for, because quite frankly that’s an entirely different conversation neither of them are prepared to have. she teases then, a little glint in her eyes that makes it clear she is his daughter when she looks around the room. “ what did you think i’d be doing? ”

"Nothin'..."

Despite the mischievous glint in his own gaze, Henry's statement is true enough. He hadn't  put much thought at all in what he'd find his daughter doing this morn, he had only stopped by to ask her plans for the day.  If he had happened to stumbled on her doing something she ought not to, that's hardly his fault.  He still has no clue though, what she'd be trying to hide.  It's only her too honest face, (undoubtedly inherited from him,) that raises his suspicion at all.  Henry frowns for just  a moment before a cheeky grin starts to form.

“My sentiments exactly,” Victoria nodded approvingly. It was a strange thing, the sort of friendship that she had formed with him since the first time sheer curiosity had brought her over the borders and into his realm. At the same time, it was perfectly natural. They certainly had enough in common that nothing felt stilted or forced. She was too impulsive of a creature for that, anyway. If she didn’t enjoy his company, she would not have sought it out.

“If only my cousins were as considerate,” she lamented, though a wicked smirk crossed her face. “You know Italians, though. It would be a miracle if they sent anything stronger than communion wine.” 

She swilled the drink in her own cup thoughtfully. Once she noted that he had already thrown his back, though, she didn’t waste time in following suit. “I suppose the best remedy for that is to simply drink more. It’s bound to kick in eventually if we try hard enough. I’m not sure it’ll help us feel any cooler in the heat though.”

"You'd get communion wine, and a priest with it," Henry concurs.  Her smirk is met with a hearty, rumbling chuckle.  Does he know much about her cousins, or about Italy in general? No.  Not really, but it's still amusing to poke fun at their often austere image.  

His own image should be enough for her to know a mere shot of rice wine is not going to be enough for their intent .  They're here to drink after all. He gestures the glass at her before clinking it against the bottle.  He's always been too impatient to be that subtle.  She better hurry up or he'll pour himself.

"It'll help us not care," he states, grin  turning a little more crooked before he gives her an exaggerated roll of his eyes.  "Damn miserable place.  Don't know if I'd of cared to come here if it wasn't for the..."

His handwave is vague but encompassing of the foreign festivities they overlook.

"...I'm surprised you’re here at all."

she gave her father a shy smile, her mom had looked the other way and joan was off onto a world of her own, she had always been like that though, a loner when it came to adventures and it was rare for her to be able to sneak away. 

she followed her father’s command, and though she mostly mostly both of her parents’ command it was her mother who scared her more than the ruling king of scotland. was it ill of her to call him a cool dad? “doesn’t she always?” she asked her father. “but it was wonderful, i wore the knew light blue dress that has has so many layers, i have bruises on my hips from it. and the princes were boring though.” she had to finish that sentence with the roll of her eyes.

"Hey now."

He's not going to let her sass on her mother, but Henry's sharp look easily shifts back into a second wicked grin at her description of the ball.  Better dresses that left bruises and boys she found boring than the other way around.  He chuckles, low and gruff, undoubtedly betraying a still boyish sense of humor, but he doesn't bother to explain. If that's not a thought in her head, he isn't going to put it there.

"Glad you had a good time.  A lot different than home, isn't it?"

There's nothing about Greece that echoes of Scotland, and for Henry in his limited travels, it's been quite a bit of culture shock already.  They've barely let the girls out of the Highlands, (his fault, he supposes), so he's certain it's even more so for them.  Joan, with her adventurous spirit, will probably be all right, but Lina...

         news   traveled fast ,   speculation at its heel .    whether it was a kidnapping or a murder didn’t matter ,   what this revealed was the   DANGER   lurking in the greek court     ————     the people are afraid     &     in their paranoia was  ugly  discrimination many didn’t care to hide     (    especially to a lowly concubine like her    ) .    rúyì kept to herself ,   but she needn’t   see   to feel their stares .    their whispers so loud it might as well be to her face .    unfortunately even her salvaged courtyard peace was horribly  short - lived .

         a hand nursed her burning arm ,   hair  half - disheveled  fell to her shoulders     (    the jade hairpin in pieces at their feet    ) .       ‘    my apologies    ————    ’       uttered more from  practice habit  than genuine remorse .    duō yīshì bùrú shǎo yīshì ,    rúyì could hear  the madam  chastise     &     already the brief displays of irritation subsides into a hollow disappointment then a courteous smile .       ‘    are you alright ,   my lord   ?    i hope my hairpin is the only  causality  here today .    ’

It's a slip of a girl that blocks his way, and -- ah shite -- as if Henry wouldn't recognize the decadence of Imperial China.  Just the slight of silk and jade tightens his jaw, catching a string of words behind his teeth.  He can't even begin to guess where she fits into the royal household, (has it really been two decades?!) but if she's like her kin, he can imagine how little patience she'll have for the likes of him.  Somehow, in consideration of the ring on his finger, he manages to force a cordial nod and a smile that isn't completely baring his teeth.

"Aye.  Yea.  Fine.  Shame about the..."

He flippantly waves at the shattered...what would you call that?  Stick? Hair Stick?  Whatever.  Enough jade that he'd rather not think of the cost, or how much she must be fuming behind that painted smile.

     the scene of the palace was chaotic –– some living in genuine fear, some eager for a bit of gossip. lina hadn’t a clue as how to actually react. if she were being honest, she was a bit fearful. after all, the motive and culprit were still completely unclear, and the details seemed to change by the hour. why? and if they didn’t know why, they couldn’t entirely be sure it was an isolated incident.

    much in her head about the unfolding catastrophe, lina takes it upon herself to clear her head. go for a way through the courtyards, refresh herself. it’s only when she nearly flies backward from the collision that she’s pulled out of her thoughts. it seems this is becoming a habit, and she makes note that it needs to be worked on. the self chastising only lasts a moment before her eyes fall on someone familiar, an instant glow warming her cheeks. “ father. ” she breathes, happy for his final arrival. she rubs her arm absentmindedly, unbothered that it took the brunt of the collision. “ you’ve missed quite a lot in your absence. we’ve been waiting for you. ”

"Girl, what the hell are you doing down here?"   Sharp words come from his surprise, as Henry catches his footing.

He's lucky, he supposes, that beyond their prim and polish, his girls are strongly made. He's plowed men down with less momentum.  Still, his eldest will get a long look over, his gaze lingering on her arm, before he pulls her in for a bear hug.  It's partially an apology, and partially with intent to keep her from the mob.  Lina's never quite had a head for violence.

"Aye.  It's lively already, isn't it?"

If Henry would have known, maybe he would have tried to come earlier.  But the needs of Scotland weren't so easily put on hold just because Greece finally decided to pull its head out of its own ass.  

Henry huffs, then moves to pull his daughter back towards the palace and away from the crowds.  

she had missed her father, she had wanted to stay behind with him to stay in scotland longer. she fisted his shirt, taking in his scent before she pulls back and looks up to him. she gave him a shy smile. “papa, of course she does not!” joan giggled, but she nodded. “you should have been there for the ball. i was so warm after 10 minutes of dancing.”

Of course.  That quick change of subject isn't fooling him, girl, but the crooked grin that hits his face negates any room he has to chide her.  If she's acting like a heathen, he can't exactly blame the Noble House of Ming.  (Not when he's a few degrees away from kicking off his boots and joining her.)

"Uh-huh.  C'mon girl."

There's rarely anyone that moves fast enough for Henry; not when he barely has enough patience to fill a thimble, and definitely not with the sounds of aggression at their backs.  Joan may have had the intent to lead them inside, but it's Henry that takes the initiative, using his hold around her shoulders to pull her away from the growing crowd.

it was the most exciting thing to have happened within joan’s small lifespan, her guard was down as she ran around the castle, her feet bare as she walked through rooms and eased dropped on conversations. it was the most alive she had felt in a very long time. 

she was in the courtyard when she heard her father’s voice. she did her best to run as fast as she could back to the scottish part of the palace, but she froze hearing ey. she gulped and moved so she was facing her father. “hello papa,” she greeted, curtsying to him.

"Aye Lass, you could have scared the life outta me."  

Contrary to her fears, Henry is only glad to catch sight of his younger daughter.  He brushes himself off, then  pulls her over into a one armed hug.  (Curtsying is for her mother and mother's folk, after all.)  She gets a high raise of his brow though at her current state of dress.

"Does your mam know you're running around like this?  Bare feet and all?"

He could care less, but he hardly doubts Mei had sent their daughter off quite like that.  He means to tease, just a little, when the commotion behind them catches his attention again, as it starts to get heated. He frowns.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Henry Stuart, King of Scots, finally arrives in Greece only to find it in chaos.  He barely makes it to the outside courtyard of the palace before he’s rudely stopped by a small regiment of guards, who usher him, and any other poor bastard unfortunate enough to be in their way, away from what seems to be a growing scene of panic and confusion.  No one knows what’s going on for certain, but whispers start to rise over the din of the crowd: It’s a murder.  Than it’s not.  A theft.  But no.  It's hard to tell anything when the hysterical palace staff can't keep their stories straight. Henry doesn’t have time for this.  Tried from the road, and suddenly apprehensive to see his family, He pushes his way past the crowd and ducks behind a pillar to enter the actual palace grounds...

...only to slam into the unexpected person lingering on the other side.

HENRY CAVILL, 41, HE/HIM, CISMALE.  HENRY STUART has just arrived in greece. they’re a KING from SCOTLAND. their eyes seem to tell us a million things but TANKARDS OF ALE, WARM HEARTHS, HUNTING DOGS, AND BLITHE CHARM are seen from the surface. he hopes to gain EITHER AN ALLIANCE OR A FIGHT while here in greece.