king of kings

     She’d kept to herself since she’d arrived in Hampton, aside from a few family encounters.  The reason Marie was back did not please her, but at least she could enjoy the court and its festivities, if not the looming possibility of a second marriage.  Perhaps she could even be free of her uncle’s ambitions once King Henry’s wedding was over and if her cousin instead settled on a royal bride.  For now she could only focus on preparing for the near future, familiarizing herself with the empty halls and all their gold glory.  The walk along the marble floors and high ceilings inspired a growing tune, at first a hum and then the familiar French lyrics from her childhood.  A mellow, lovely song about a soldier.

     She stopped singing when she noticed she was no longer alone, acknowledging another who was in one of the common areas.  “These halls are still as grand as I remember,” she complimented, adjusting the strings of pearls around her neck.  “Forgive me if I interrupted your work.  I didn’t think anyone else would be here with all the wedding preparations.”  An honest admission, as she was not quite ready to face the main party lingering about English court. “Do you mind my company?  I can forgo the song.”

“I cannot deny the English their might and beauty in architecture, though it would only be words of bitterness if I were to remark on their wisdom.” Though his words lacked warmth or charm in tone, Charles sought the pleasant voice with an amiable countenance; his brow was softened, his eyes alighted merrily. Marie provided him pleasant company, that he ought not to offend with brutality or venomous words. Bowing at the waist, as to incline the crown of his head towards the ground, he sought to offer her a humble gesture; her lineage commanded only respect.  

Charles cannot hide his disgust, and rage, over the snubbing of his two eligible daughters. Perhaps if Henry had at least picked a Catholic bride, he could reconcile the lost and move on. But with England’s movement away from what is right - and the will of Charles - much is to be done, to counter-act the turmoil that awaits Europe. He continues to seek matches for his daughters, and grows weary that they had yet to be married. There has been one relief - his son, has finally produced an heir. A perfect, healthy, male heir.

“And I am equally grateful that I was born into a royal household that did not deem children to be simply ploys in a political game. I have fond memories of my childhood that I will hold with me forever.” Juana said, wishing to compliment her father for no matter what anyone said, he should know that in her eyes he was surpassing all expectation of father and leader in her eyes. “We are fortunate that our faith is strong and carries through no matter what the political atmosphere is. I only wish there were more who shared in that sentiment for everyone should know the comfort that our faith can bring them, it certainly did for me. Even if the memories are more tied to feeling taller than everyone else for a few brief moments as you held me during Sunday mass.” 

Juana laughed along with Charles as she unceremoniously pulled her father to the table, forgetting her age and position for a moment as she was brought back to a happy child-like naivete. “It must have been!” she agreed, taking a berry and popping it into her mouth before she squirmed at its sour taste. “Honestly papa, I’ve mostly enjoyed seeing those who remind me of home. Of course, seeing Mary has been lovely - I have always been fond of her, and seeing this place where she grew up has been interesting especially with how different it is from our home… I’ve spoken to Henri, the crown prince.. though very briefly and I cannot quite construct an impression of what I think of him. He looks like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders, and I suppose he does, being the Dauphin and all…” Juana trailed off, still perplexed about the French prince, but she shook it off and smiled gently at her father. “It was also nice to see a familiar face in your general, Nicodemus, joining us in England. Did you send for him for any particular reason? You don’t think that we are in more danger, do you?” she asked, wondering why her father would have sent for the general if not for added protection and security. 

"Only partially to be employed when it suits my designs -I would be a great deal sad if we did not have fond memories of your childhood, that we both my treasure." Charles felt indebted to his daughter's proclamations, wishing he could undergo a transformation to properly fit her estimation of his character. "England should do well to have a devote Queen at its helm; though should you find your dominion elsewhere, the sentiment shall stand. Your mother and I take great comfort in the inspiring words your sing for religion; I would know not what to do with a heretic."

 Per his usual custom he submitted to the will of Juana’s gaiety and bright behaviors ; they were settled at the table, observed by guards and maids whilst allowed the privacy their status dictated. “You spend your time with Mary? I am glad to hear it - had you been closer in age, I would have been pleased to see you both reared side by side. She is a lovely reflection of our dear Katherine’s grace; and serves your brother well as a wife, and to better his character. Henri is no doubt frightened of you slightly, no matter how beauteous and sweet-natured you may be, due to me - indeed, he is a tortured soul; though I hope you to admire him one day in the future.” Charles’ features were lined with a frown as she gave voice to fear; though the attack on the King had faded from the consciousness of mots courtiers minds, it was evident it had claimed his daughter’s - with reason, that he could not deny. He grazed her cheek with the outside of his hand, desiring to bestow a gesture of comfort to his youngest that would ease her distress. “It pleases me that you are glad to see our General, though I shall inform you I brought him to the court only out of precaution. As far as my spies and advisers know, we are under no unusual or pressing threat; I arranged for his presence, as I have a deep feeling we shall be here for quite some time. Negotiations, as they were once halted, have been renewed.” 

“I find that faith is best when it is tested, Your Majesty. That is how you know it to be true.” It was what he had told himself for years now when he found himself facing doubts, facing fears for his very soul in his weakest moments. “Christ himself was tested. The tests give meaning to faith.” He was nearly repeating himself and so he silenced before his words could wander too much further from him.

It was this other conversation which made Juan want to scream, in truth - indeed, he could feel the temptation clawing its way up his throat like bile. How deeply he wished to reject the notion that he desired a bride of any kind, that he had any desire at all. Instead, his features carried the same expression as before, even as he looked at Charles evenly, throat bobbing as if to physically swallow down the urge which had nearly overtaken him. “You should never lose me, Mr Lord. Nor my loyalty, to you. It comes second only to my loyalty to God. No one  could ever hope to change me in such regard.” As soon as he spoke the words, Juan regretted them - not because they were untrue, but for precisely the opposite reason. It was too true, and to hear himself put such sentiments into words almost felt sacrilegious. It felt too close to the truth of what he desired to say, and he could only hope that Charles would not see through him so plainly. In a way, too, he felt overly aware of his own silence following the words - feeling he should fill it, but with what he did not know, jaw working for a moment as the wood in the hearth crackled.

  How casually Juan demonstrated the strength of his character. He was not made of common clay; nor molded from vulgar materials. The outlines of his nature had been shaped with benevolence and vigor, the details embraced workmanship of delicacy; finer moral fiber then you could believe inherent in him, even after years of acquaintance. His fine nature sought to operate as a mode of comfort, yet Charles felt afflicted by shame, as his own actions were reflected in Juan’s kindness; his reflection was a discomfort. “I know all you contrive to be true; but for the aching in my heart that wishes it to be false. It is a burden, is it not - men of God, to know right and to be condemned to see it be done?”  

 Out of men's afflictions and affections were forged the rivers of their servitude. Juan’s declaration was surely the summation of both; Charles drew steady breaths from the room, praying the air that invaded his body would dampen the acceleration of his heart. Relief had never been so intoxicating, reviving, until now - he knew Juan to be moved in the pursuit of pious honesty, or so he convinced himself, in order to greatly assuaged by the affirmation of loyalty. “God should revoke his favor from my head, as I am too glad to have such words spouted from your lips. I am honored to have you - never should I have fancied I would have credence to remark such.” He had been left soothed, yet full of solicitude; breathing a wish, as strong as a prayer. “Misery is not a fitting look for an Emperor, is it? I shall draw upon the lights in my life; for at the present, I am presented with the great joy of seeing my dear Mary, who for such time, was lost to me.” 

       Even with the abundance of wealth at her fingertips and the favourable position which being a princess granted her, Arabella had never been contented with her lot. No, as ever she strived for more and let no one stand in her way. Her craftiness was unmatched in the Scottish court, and she surely overtook her mother’s tenaciousness. But every dark thought was hidden behind an immaculate image of pure and gentle perfection. She gave to the poor so she could be seen to do so, she read to the orphaned children so they could spread songs of her benevolence. Arabella never did anything without some other meaning hiding behind it.

The princess had asked after Charles, hoping that she might meet with him. He was the very might of Catholic power, and she would see to it that her husband to be grasped at every stray strand that he could. Being King of the Romans already gave him a grand opportunity and it was one of the many reasons why the Scottish Lords insisted on their betrothal. So there was a natural need for her to keep herself in the good graces of his almighty and powerful brother. The princess allowed the manservant to introduce her before she made a graceful entrance into Emperor Charles’ apartments. “ Your majesty, ” she acknowledged, performing a perfectly executed curtsy to the older man. “ I do hope that I am not intruding upon your time. ” 

@blessedcharlesv

  By nature Charles was a thinker and sought intrigue; over his emotions and reflections spread a mellowing of ambition; in opportunity and bereavement in became a cloud. He did not know much of Arabella Stewart, but believed the small gleams of information available to him truthful portraits, rather then misconceptions. She dabbled in the art benevolence, while maintaining an exterior which contained the warm of sculpted marble. Arabella cultivated a myriad of impressions across the English court, proclaimed as either a distant figure, or an epicenter of warmth. Prepared with his expectations, he found the remarks on the nature of her visage entirely true; blessed by the hand of God with handsome features, she would serve as an ideal mate, if only on the value of her features. Whether she would inspire devotion by way of her character, he knew not. 

   His eye was kind as he looked upon her; his voice benevolent in every aspect. Charles placed valuable stock in his family legacy; and much would be gained if the union came to fruition.  “It is a chief honor to be sought out, entirely on your own accord. I invite you to be seated as my side, so that we may better enjoy one another’s wit.” Curiosity carved his features, moving him to designs of geniality that seldom pained the Emperor. In no fashion did he seek to yield to Arabella; but at once, he did seek to earn a small sliver of her good grace. “An alliance falls between us. At times such as this, only gold can seek to be as valuable a commodity. I wish for us to become well-acquainted with each other; in preparation for the union of our families, but more so - should we find ourselves of like minds, much could be made of our shared confidence.”

Her nerves were still alight as she followed the man to his room, not unlike a cat whose ears were perked to pick up on any sign of danger. This was even more of a risk than their meeting outdoors, for she knew how rumors could spiral, and yet for now it was the safer of their options, Anne lingering near the doorway even as Charles had seated himself, nursing a glass of wine - naturally she had enjoyed better, but it was something which helped to calm the quaking of her figure.

“Scottish?” She repeated, curious at the question as she studied the Emperor for a moment. “I fear I have not made a number of Scottish friends, although I have spoken to the King of Scots since my arrival. He found himself curious, I think, about the life of French ladies - preparing himself for a betrothal to King Francis’s daughter. It was very formal” She paused, coming closer to seat herself nearer the Emperor. “Do you hope to kindle some Scottish connection, Your Majesty?”

 Her figure resisted their coalition, but her mind could not deny itself the suggestion of intrigue Charles’ line of questioning had conjured. Anne possessed great proximity to his confidence, and in turn knew his favoritism towards alighting rumors of unrest against Francis. Allies - that was the name aptly applied to their newfound relationship, yet Charles would not deny himself the delights of childish ribbing. These motivations however, did not move his hand that night; in favor of gossip, he turned to the melancholic, and the ferociously serious. “Scottish indeed - never would I have imagined myself uttering the name with interest.” 

  Yet he could not deny their commanding presence at the court - the delegation of sweeping ladies and their King, all of which sought to jockey for power in a fashion that undermined the Emperor’s preconceived notions. “Francis too seeks to ally with the Scottish? It pains me, the times I am forced to align his name with wit and finesse. If England does not quicken her pace, she shall be entirely left in the cold.” Charles could not deny the alliance between his son and the English princess, though he heavily favored Mary as his own; rather then further spawn of the late Henry. “One may loom near as we speak - my brother, to the Princess; only after abandoning hopes of wedding his hand to yours, of course.” Anne would take no man as her husband, he felt certain of this; and although he spoke in jest, the scenario did not seem disagreeable to him in the least. “Yet I grow tired of marriage plans - it is as if Spanish flies have replaced all monarchy. I seek these alliances, naturally. But the dreams of justice I crossed an ocean for, have yet to come to fruition.” 

    The appearance of the Emperor was not such a surprise it was, however, surprising that it had taken quite so long. Caterina’s dear uncle may no longer have been Pope, but the man currently carrying the Papal crown was yet another figure raised at the side of the Medici and Caterina’s arrival at court had been at his pleasure; to keep the legitimate Medici on side was surely to keep the Pope on side also, was it not? The rightful Ducessa did not rise from her seat, shoulders holding a noble posture with hands sitting idly upon the skirts covering her lap, as Charles invited himself to sit much to the displeasure of the ladies whose company the Florentine had been keeping. With a polite smile and a nod, the surrounding woman rose to curtsy and excuse themselves at Caterina’s silent gesture so to eliminate the audience to Charles’ display of power - or whatever it was he desired to achieve from a display of such arrogance. “ Charles. I believe there to be no forgiveness necessary, surely an Emperor has greater matters to tend to than a guest in His Holiness’ place? It is not your court, after all, you need not entertain the guests. Though I must admit that I almost did not recognise you, it has been quite some years, has it not? I feel as though I was but a girl when we last met. ”

Anne fell into silence for a few moments - both as a way of escaping attention and simply through contemplation of the Emperor’s question, all other pieces of their conversation all escaping her memory. “Not on purpose, certainly, Your Majesty. Does anyone in such a place have any short of enemies, though? People grow to hate very easily in a royal court.” Anne’s words were soft, but no less true for it as she stopped again to listen, to see if the footsteps would come closer or retreat. She held her breath for what seemed an eternity, trying to decide what she might do if they were caught, what she might say. It certainly looked bad, and the reality was undoubtedly worse. “Perhaps this should be the end of our evening together, monsieur. I am certain you have other things to attend to. Though - if there is more you might like to discuss -” She stood, as quiet as possible with the rustling of her skirts. “I think we must find a different place to speak. Lesser chance of listen ears, even from unknowing visitors.”

She took the opportunity to move to peek around the edge of the hedgegrow - hopefully without being seen. “I think perhaps it is one of the guards of the Palace. I cannot see the face.”

   “How much it has pained me to be without your fervent wit and easily spewed adages; indeed, few many claim to be without enemy at the Court. I find more dissent in the English courtiers, then with any other grouping of underlings across Europe.” Charles found amusement in his own words for a brief moment, before self-elation was stolen by the look of distress which pained Anne’s features for a flash. Quickly composing her countenance, Anne breached easy conversation, attempting to remain subdued as the figure of another, seemed to approach. “Do you wish to evade my company, dear Lady? Your entire figure recoils from me.” Anxiety flooded the Emperor as his eyes moved in tandem with hers, seeking out whatever presence made brazen steps across the stoned path. No secrets had been bared to the English air, yet the mere whiff of coalition was enough for many to threaten retribution for conspiracy. “My quarters are pleasant enough for whatever venture we shall undertake - it is with grace few come to visit me unannounced, though it contributes fully to the grizzly personality I have undertaken.”

   Anne declared the scene to be somewhat spared from interlopers, but Charles remained resigned to move them elsewhere. A burning proposition had begun to make its ways from his throat to his lips; and he would not tolerate unkind ears being privy to such matters.  ----

  Seated now in a throne of cushions far more pleasing the the tepid stone seated amongst greenery, Charles turned his attentions once more to Anne. “My lady, how favorable are your relations Scottish?” 

“It is my intent, as ever, to offer aid which pleases and benefits you.” He murmured, voice low - still struggling to fully shake the vestiges of sleep which clung to the sound of his words. If necessary, it was for such a reason that he could claim to have left the note about children behind. Could he ever dare to hope for such a thing? Could he claim to be deserving? “Marriage is complex when it is of such high importance. It is not anything to take lightly, I have kept that in mind, always, with these negotiations.” He pressed his lips together, taking a deep breath which barely evaded being a yawn. “But you must have faith, I think, in the Lord’s hand leading your mind to the greatest choice for each of your daughters. His guidance will make it so.” 

Charles’s next question was one he had dreaded, and it caused his heart to squeeze in his chest, yet Juan felt he had a perfect countermeasure. “I think not, your Majesty. I should prefer a bride of Spanish origin, and I think such will be in short supply in England, while I serve here. I am…. quite content that it should remain so for now. To keep a wife from life at home for long would seem….unfair.”

  Juan's vow renewal was tainted by the vice grip fatigue had on his person; each word delivered, only after being subjected to a stifled yawn. Yet this did little to deter the comfort the words brought to Charles, who was more motivated to explore his vehemence then sleep. He waged war on his own condition simultaneously calling the actions of all those around him into question. “Never shall I doubt that you work fervently to serve my family and I - my faith is tested by my patience too greatly, as of late. There is a sense of forbidding this foreign land has set into my skin, and I am all too aware of my own mortality, along with my daughters.” 

What had Charles desired of his bride? He had wished for friendship, counsel, companionship; he could not wish to deny these attributes to Isabella, whose name triggered pains of remorse in his breast. He had sought these things in the church - finding each required element in the man before him. It was his own  doing that the conversation turned to Juan's bachelorhood, as if he willed the both of them to the pain which matrimony would invariably cause. For Juan, he would be cast from Charles circle, relegated to duties which separated them without knowledge why; Charles would nurture his hatred lovingly, until it possessed the strength to function on its own. Charles looked up from the carpet, his eyes neither cold nor malevolent as they fixated on Juan's, his mouth not cynical. Despite the chill that took over his body, he readied himself as willing to hear Juan's opinions on a wife. "I would not have thought you interested enough in the topic to have a preference of bride." His countenance was restrained, though his heart was smothered by disappointment in the fact. “A Spanish bride is the only breed of woman I would consider truly worthy of you. But you speak as if much will change with your future wedding - will I lose you to a woman, Juan?” He spoke to the man as King to trusted adviser, though his heart motivated him to pose the question for entirely selfish, ungodly reasons. 

    Henri sought only to clear his mind in the gardens. There was too much gossip at court, idle and ill-advised given that many courtiers whispered treason from their tongues as if it was nothing more than honey on their chins. He thought mayhaps he ought to bear pity for the English King, but would never utter such a thought aloud. No doubt, King Henry had some purpose for his absence and Henri would leave the benefit of such a fact to his father. He walked alone, dismissing others who would squawk endlessly at his ear despite apparent protests. He did not wish to discuss the beauties of court, nor the prospects of a hunt, nor even the weight of the new sword his father had procured for him. 

     Now, however, he wished he had been wise enough to bring along someone if for nothing more than an excuse. The heavy footsteps of the Emperor’s guard drew from him an ache deep in the pit of his stomach. Unbidden, his ribcage restrained like a woman’s corset, constricting his breath despite outward appearances of indifference and quiet contemplation. Emperor Charles, before him in the flesh. It did not feel so long ago that he towered above Henri, humiliating the little French prince with the clothes he saw fit to have him dressed in, frightening him into perfect behavior for a foreign court. Though he was a man grown, Henri could not help but feel small. Hoping to compensate for such feelings of inadequacy, he lifted his chin, pausing as if in thought to collect his strength. He had been the spare when he’d traveled to Spain, the spare without a mother who still wept for France’s Claude on many occasions, but now he was the Dauphin of France, the heir to a dynasty, and he would not tremble before his former foe. 

     “Non, your grace.” Henri responded, his voice clearer than he had anticipated. “I would not desire to see you as such, nor do I feel threat in your presence. Your ambassador has met me with warm invitation and spoke of your desire to see me. I do believe our precious Lord sees fit to provide opportunity, and nay I am but a man incapable of denying merciful Christ as such.” He prattled, building confidence as he bid his time. He stopped, the guard hovering nearer than he liked, and instinctively positioned his frame so that he felt more control. “I have grown much since last you harbored me in your home, non? What think you of the boy you knew, grown before you?” 

 “I should not seek to covet your religious sentiments as being born from my own influence, though I hope your time together helped cement your fever to please our Lord - it suits you well.” Charles found himself affected by the remarkable change in Henri’s countenance; for a mere ten years before, he had never witnessed a remote hint of pleasure across the mans face, nor were his eyes ever so brightened by kindness. He was not so deluded, as to think he inspired these sentiments - rather, they were born, and allowed to blossom, while covering from the duress of captivity. Henri was very much the same boy who had evaded eye contact unless provoked; though Charles could not fathom pretending a great change had not occurred. “I confess to finding myself shocked, at looking at the face of a man rather then a boy- truly, you are a credit to your mothers beauty.” 

@cfmedici

“It would be… but it happens more often than you would think, papa. Not everyone that I’ve met here was raised the same way you raised us,” she said, remembering the conversations that she’d had with several members of other royal families present at court. It made Juana sad to see that it was such a norm for royalty to be so distant to their own children, but lucky all the same that her father had chosen to put equal importance into ensuring that they had a good relationship with him, that had extended to the great relationship that they had now. “I could never forget all those memories with you, papa. My favorite times were when we would all go to mass together and you would let me stay in your arms while you explained what was happening… I was so young then but you would talk to me the same way you’d talk to Philip and Maria, and it would make me feel special.” 

She knew that he couldn’t make any promises to her. For as the Holy Roman Empire, his priorities had to be whether her marriage would be advantageous for their people, not necessarily basing it on whether or not she would be close to home. “I trust you completely, papa,” she said, meaning it as she conveyed that sincerity through her blue eyes piercing into Charles’s. They reached the table that had been set up for the princess to eat something after her ride, but Juana was happier to spend the time with her father. “Look, papa! They’ve laid out berries!” she said excitedly, tapping her father’s arm with her fingertips as she beamed excitedly. “I did not ask them to, how could the English kitchens have known how fond of them I am?” 

     “I am greatly pleased my parental skills outweigh those of my fellows, even if the sentiments of parenthood remain the same.” For as little personal respect he awarded the late Henry, a kinship lay between them in the fraught task of serving as father, while dictating as king. It would be a prayer for his two daughters, that Henry had been molded into man by hands other then that of his namesake; but such unkind sentiments were not be unearthed in front of his daughter. “I am glad sweet child, that you treasure memories of your first holy verses for chiefly; such memories pull fondly at my own heart strings. It is a blessed thing to have a child devoted to her prayers - especially, in such times on contemptuous thought on religion.”

   His thoughts turned to Juan as they talked of marriage; little time had been shared between them since his frantic call for the adviser to visit his apartment, late into the night - whether he grew closer to an alliance with France or England, Charles knew not. He followed her lead, a smile of great fondness brightening his stern features; his countenance was entirely transformed by her simple delight. “Twas a miracle by our savior, I imagine.” He made himself comfortable in one of the chairs arranged, his two fingered point towards the table sending a flurry of maids towards the kitchens; England was good, if only for a pot of tea. Soon the warmth of Spain would arrive, accompanied with an constant extraneous downpour of rain - Charles could not foresee himself extending his visit into another mirthless winter.  “Tell me of your time at the court, for it would much oblige me to hear of your dealings and ventures; I tire of speaking of my own. Whose company have you enjoyed?”

  For a while Charles listened to the lullaby of bees humming in the berceau of flowers and plants, and watched through the glass the tender, blooming foliage which indicated the advancement of spring. His principal attraction towards the greenhouse lay in its perfect use as a solitary sanctuary; the change in temperature brought a wave of strength to his form, but with it arrived a stinging reminder he remained a foreign element in the English court. Spain promised him the dazzling warmth of the sun, the hum of birds and bees, lulling him into gentle bliss; Charles became overwhelmed with lassitude, and retired to a stone bench.

Juan looked down into the flames, uncertain of what to make of the entire situation - roused from his bed over these matters, and the look on Charles’s face left him quite uncertain as to its meaning. He looked tired, nearly irritated, and Juan found looking was best avoided altogether. “A fool?” He repeated, surprised at the idea that could be insinuated. “Your Majesty, I could never consider you such. On the contrary. I think you the least fool of any man I have ever met.” He glanced up at him again, one hand on the mantel above the fire as if he were holding on for balance. “I think you are eager to make the best arrangements possible where your family is concerned. No one can fault you for that.” Though the words may have seemed like intentional flattery, it was merely his honest opinion. “I think it is in the nature of a father, to want the best for their children. no matter their station.” Not that he had much experience with that himself, no children to speak of for himself. His own father, though, had guided him with a strong hand, and it had brought him to this very place. “You have doubts?”

  He shrugged his shoulders, varied and competing expressions fighting for space across his countenance. Charles fell victim to custom once more, which dictated a swift acceptance of all pleasantries laid before his feet, with not a single complimented offered in return; a myriad of sweet words bubbled below the surface, each as inappropriate for a King to bestow on any person but his wife, then the next. “Your children will be glad to have such a father to rear them in a level-headed and kind humor; you do well to sooth me, as an adviser.” Charles marveled at the carpet which spread across the floor, to deprive himself of the required courage gathering needed to match Juan’s wary gaze; he had no doubt a look of confusion, mingling with exhaustion, fell across the man’s face. “I struggle to find what I have concrete belief in - I doubt all, both my resolve to deny the match, and the recognition it may be foolish to do so. Has marriage been such a complicated matter, always?” Isabella had appeared before him, willing and well connected; little fanfare precipitated the match. “You have yet to fret over such matters; have you grow closer to matrimony?” 

“And you’ve been doing it for as long as I can remember, papa. One would have thought that you’d run out of compliments by now.” she said, laughing and taking his arm so that they could walk together, determined to take up as much time with him as she could. “I think that part of why I enjoy it so much is fond memories of going riding with you when I was a child, and the way you would take me out to the riding circles when I was even younger just so that you could walk me around as I sat on my pony.” It was the truth, for without those memories she could understand why other ladies would give up on the sport, for it took a lot of time, and dedication to become proficient in it. 

“I know that, father. And you are an excellent example of both- being the leader of the Holy Roman Empire, and a father to Phillip, Maria and I. I know far too many others who do not have the relationship that I have with you, probably because their fathers did not put in the time with them.” There were many royals with strained relationships with their parents, and she was glad that her own parents had dedicated themselves to being leaders of their family along with being leaders of the nation. “Wonderful! I’m so pleased to know that I will get to spend the day with you, papa.” Juana’s smile weakened gently at the idea that her match - and therefore, her leaving home- had seemed to change when she was just getting used to England, but she tried to cover it up and gave her father an optimistic look. “Closer to home, I hope?” she asked, knowing that she would follow her duty wherever it led her, but hoping that she wouldn’t be forced too far from her family. 

“It would be a disgrace for a parent to lack in pleasant remarks to make on their own child; for it would be merely a reflection on their own failures, to cultivate a worthy off-spring.” Much of parenting was a selfless act, yet Charles would willingly admit that the love of his children, also served to fuel his own notions of grandeur. “I am glad you can still picture such moments so clearly; how much you’ve grown since those days. I could hardly reach you atop a stead now.” Bitterness over the loss of her childhood days did not touch Charles’ heart; with each passing day, he grew accustomed to her womanhood, and sought to treasure these days as equally as those when she was scrapping at his knees.

  He bowed his head in gentle acceptance of her words, not wishing to avow such sweetness from his daughter. The exertion to cultivate fond relationships with his children was advised against by many, but it remained clear now such efforts were entirely worth his labor. “I am unsure - but I can promise that you shall not be without the comfort of those you love, wherever you may be settled.” Charles did not wish to send her into a dour mood with the realities of marriage ; the pain being the loss of ones immediate family, in close proximity as to render the heart ache of separation impossible. “France is closer to England, though I make no promise on whether such negotiations should come to fruition. The friction between Francis and I has dimmed, though the Prince and I have yet to make a personal accord; and I would not part with you, to a man I am unconvinced is not motivated by a desire to see me ruined.” 

Juan rubbed at one eye, pausing as he fully took in the scene before him - the Holy Roman Emperor in nothing more than his nightclothes before him, wide-eyed and awake as he seemed to pace the room. He swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat before he cleared it and stepped slightly closer, trying to shake away the direction his thoughts threatened to take him. His sleepless mind had far less filter between itself and his mouth, but he fought to focus on Charles’s words. “I…. no, my Lord, you need not worry about my sleep.” He moved a little closer to where Charles stood, attempting to warm his hands through the roaring fire in the hearth. “You are speaking of this proposed match between the French prince and the infanta Juana?” He asked slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I do not know what more I can offer. It - I have not intended to delay, but the French King is a difficult man to make an audience with. Is it - do you wish for more evidence of the prudence of the match?”

 He knew not why he was possessed with an urge to scold a man who had done little to incur such ire; if Charles was willing to address his true motivations, he would reckon with the fact he was denied the pleasure of expressing of emotions. He bordered on excessiveness in his compliments towards Juan lately - he nearly incurred suspicion or disapproval from those around him, or the man himself; the only avenue made available to express the mountain of emotion which sought to crush him, was through anger in the middle of the night. But as he parted his lips to unleash a tirade, he found words sought to evade him, to prevent such an error. Charles would never vocalize all Juan was to him, nor could he wound him in order to diminish the light inside him, to deter his own inclinations. “I cannot make up my mind - whether I am distressed by the lack of movement, or whether I am relieved, as I am allowed more time. Childish pettiness motivates me in either regard. Speak to me freely now - do you think me a fool?” 

“I fear I shall never be able to explain it to you, my Lord.” She admitted in bemusement. “It is impossible to speak for the directions in which one’s heart sways. Though I have no illusions that I might be able to turn yours toward my King. Of course I have heard much of the strife between the two of you, for he has no hesitation in speaking very plainly of it. Though in recent weeks the frustration seems softened.” She followed his gaze up to the sky, curious about his thoughts, though no amount of looking seemed fit to explain his mindset. “In that case, I shall do my best to supply what you ask for.”

Of course her words had been, in part, a play to the man’s vanity (for all men possessed such, particularly, she was sure, those who deigned to call themselves emperor) and it seemed to have worked as his expression and words both indicated satisfaction. She felt some pride at that - possibly sinful, but she did not delve further. “Indeed, he has much to learn. He is capable, and I admit some sympathy for him in his situation, but the time must come where he will develop his own destiny.” She nodded at him. “I confess, I would happily play the arbiter if Francis did not have such a jealous nature. I think these conversations, even those that are benign in nature, might arouse some trouble within him.” She cleared her throat, thoughtful on the issue of the marriage of his daughter, something she could equally divulge to Francis, but another sound brought her to a halt - the sound of movement further down the path. Anne’s eyes narrowed as she held up a hand in a silent gesture, lips pursed into a worried frown. “You came alone, oui?”

 “Your heart is truly won by Francis? I must find him admirable then, for performing such a feat. It does not surprise me he has made our differences so known to you; it is a act of restraint for him to cease speaking. The frustration however, is lessened - it is only now I may callous and albeit, childish, jabs on his behalf. Formerly, all notions would have been gravely serious declarations of how I wish him dead.” He mourned the apathy he was once allowed to revel in by design; in lieu of venomous hatred, an uneasy friendliness now ruled their relationship.”Although no man shall ever lay claim to you as his, I am full of confidence when I state that I have faith in you.”

  Henry’s time will come - at the cost of his and Francis’ glory days, no less. Whatever he spite he reserved for the King on behalf of Katherine, had to be measured against the jealousy of a rule coming to fruition. Every king, every emperor, enjoyed the time of unease, but great excitement, which was brought by ascension. “I wish him well, in the end. He is my kin, no matter how much I deny it; and we are bettered by the success of England.” Or, he momentarily longed for civility between the nations; war was draining,tiring. “I find myself sympathizing with Francis on that front - it would take a great deal for a man not incur such notions of jealousy, while his former lady conversed with his former enemy.” It brought him a great sense of delight, despite his civil statement, that he could provoke, and irk, the French King. He sought to further gloat, but the darkening of Anne’s countenance bade his own senses to heighten in alarm. “Always.” His heard turned, desperately seeking the figure which had moved in the shadows. “I can name twelve people who would be delighted by eavesdropping on our conversation - however polite it has been thus far. Do you court enemies in England, Anne?”