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It seemed, that as soon as she had questioned his whereabouts and the pace he had taken, that the King had decided enough was enough. What with his seeming grunt and not-so-subtle hands, Lucrezia allowed him entry. With their mouths interlocked she allowed him to explore her mouth as he had done before, to explore a world he had once taken as his own with little admiration but rather an urgency that required his complete and utter attention. Her hands grasping at his arms, she held him in place and played her role as she liked. With his words, that seemed to tangle themselves into her ears, Lucrezia pulled herself from his embrace, holding him at arms length — to stand before him as not merely a lady of his court but a woman who had grown.

“I would prefer to undress before you, my King. But as I said, time is of the essence and I am now a lady in need… Of not to you, but to my Queen,” Lucrezia reminded him, her hands squeezing against his elbows. With her chest heavy with want but eager in showing off what she had learned, Lucrezia released herself from his grasp and sighed loudly for him to hear and taste. 

“Perhaps I simply yearn to talk to an old bed-fellow… Do you not wish to ask how I have been?”

Why was she being so difficult? Playing games, saying she had little time, but wishing to take the time to undress, again saying that they needed to hurry all while in the same breath ensuring that he knew she wasn't in his service, then wishing to talk, of all things. How vexing, why could she simply not say what she wished instead of acting disappointed and sighing for receiving the very attention that surely she must have known to expect?

"You are the lady in waiting to a queen, most would say that means you're doing quite well. And you also know that even without the support of the queen, which I'm certain you have as I doubt she finds you to be anything short of invaluable, you know very well that you also have the aid of Portugal." After all, had Cristiano not been kind to her in terms of gifts and support when she previously warmed his bed. Perhaps there was no point in seeking out old bed partners and reuniting with them no matter how fond his memories.

With little thought to it, Mihrimah spoke with a loosened tongue. Wanting both to strike a true conversation with the King and host, but also to allow her very soul to remain in his mind — if Mihrimah desired anything it was fame, even as she stood before King Cristiano with her head held back and her dress perfectly draped.

 “Yes, you offer such beautiful estates. Though I was surprised to hear that we were placed in a residence that had once been used as a convent…” The words lingering on her tongue, Mihrimah’s mind wandered. Instead, she looked around the king and took in the decorations, the plants, the details that would’ve been overlooked elsewhere. Perhaps she should pay attention to his daughters, that was yet another way to make amends, no matter what her aunt’s relationship with Portugal may have been. “Are your daughters around? I would like to meet them too, and the Queen.”

Mihrimah had meant little to no ill will, it was merely her naivety that struck her as rude or malicious. And though she had been educated well and persisted in her teachings to aid her older brother in all he desired help with, when outside of her place by his side she felt as small as an infant — playing pretend rather than taking on a role worthy of her skill and ambition. 

"That was not meant as a slight, but more as a gesture of acceptance for the duration of your visit. I have no doubt you know that Portugal has resisted the influence of your religion, but placing you inside a convent was meant to show that despite differences of faith, our religion is are generous and will find a place for you to reside. It is not an attempt to convert you." Cristiano informed her gently, as if coaxing her to believe in his words.

Was she uncomfortable speaking with a man? Perhaps she wasn't supposed to, for all he knew, as her religion was a mystery to him and Cristiano reflected that it was a shame that it was this particular sultana and not her sister that attended, as two of his children were set to marry into the Holy Roman Empire the same as the the woman's sister. It could serve as a point of connection, although Cristiano wasn't certain just how interested Crara was in making amends with the Ottoman Empire, if she was at all.

she was sure she was having heighten sense like a mythical creatures might experience, the roaring of the noise within her ear, and the smell of the king in front of her, and the feeling of his heat on her now cold arm. so cold bumps were now visible as he took her soft hands within his rough ones. she understood the innuendo that left his plump lips, that she had finally be able to tear her eyes from. she licked her lips. she had moments to decide, it would be treason, but iskender had three consorts plus many favorites. she nodded, her head. “i do,” she whispered.

so she turned, allowing her hand to stay within his. they walked down hallways, wondering when they had gotten so long. but finally the chapel was in front of them. and they entered, the heavy oak door closing behind them.

While Cristiano was hardly a stranger to the nicer palacios in Portugal and had confirmed that every place was appropriate for the royals they would home, that didn't mean Cristiano knew where they all stored their people or what their motions through the day happened to be, so he chose to instead bow to her intimate knowledge of the habits of her husband's people than to lead her astray. Besides, there was a pleasure in making her take action so that she wasn't just a willing participant, but an enabling partner seeking out her own ruination through bodily pleasure.

her heart hammered harder in her chest. it was a feeling similar to the one she had felt walking down an aisle to marry iskender by proxy, but it was different there was something different in the pit of her torso. she looked to his arm and then back up to the man. she saw the fire in his eyes, and the suggestiveness within his voice. and it awoke something within her. and suddenly she couldn’t stop looking at his lips. “i don’t think you could imagine my thirst,” she whispered. “i haven’t been filled in far too long. my soul is craving it, all of it.”

starter : closed

for : @codpieceking​

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲.The high-pitched laugh of a certain duchess was still vibrating unpleasantly in Crara’s ears. It was a nice sound, but only through the first hour. Though, there was little she wouldn't  endure when it came to expanding possible alliances for Portugal, especially against her enemy. An enemy she offered a bed in Lisbon, and a safe roof over his head. Well, safe did not mean “not observed by her spies” in this intance. Upon hearing  about her sister’s suspicious death she would be always consumed by anger, whenever she would hear the name of Al Barracinn. But, on the contrary,  she felt a flickering fire of excitement upon imminent confrontation. The same fire was burning low on the fireplace;  Crara was watching the flames dancing, with a cup of wine (a last one, as she promised herself) leaning against her bottom lip, without tasting it. The door closed; she felt the presence of her husband without even looking at him, like one feels warmth of the sun on a skin. She could have sit in silence beside him for hours, but the celebrations which were taking place in their kingdom were always in a dire need of discussing in detail between them, whenever possible. They were the host and hostess to the grandest gathering in Europe and all of those who have gathered would notice even a minor inconvenience, which would reflect on their image. “ I never gave much thought to the proverb - keep your friends close, but your enemies closer ” Crara mused, once Cristiano sat down on her left. Between one sip and another shekept watching the fire in silence - a balm for her ears, purifying. “ I hope Emir is comfortable in Quinta Da Regaleira. I wonder… should I make sure how comfortable he is. ” Crara’s eyes locked with his in this red-coloured half-darkness, which made both of them look younger and more vigorous, and somewhat… divine.

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How ironic it was that a country on negative standings with so many would host a summit in an attempt at peace, an event that could culminate in riots if care wasn't taken, something that Florence had proven. What made Portugal better, why were they so pompous as to believe they would succeed where others had failed?

Cristiano knew what the rumors said - he always knew what they said even when he pretended to turn a deaf ear because it was easier to learn of things when people believed they would escape your attention. Whispers and gossip had plagued Cristiano's life ever since he took the throne, murmurs of how he wasn't prepared, he wasn't meant to be a king, couldn't produce a son, so on and so forth. He'd gotten used to blocking them out, trying not to take them to heard and instead focusing on the words of his advisors, of his wife.

How her head must be turning with thoughts, especially with the Emir so close at hand.

As he slipped inside their bedroom, Cristiano wasn't surprised to see her still awake and Cristiano sat down next to her, erasing the space between them so that they were a united front just as they always were. Wrapping an arm around her waist, Cristiano gave a low chuckle at her words and leaned in to kiss her cheek, lips remaining close to her skin. "I can't tell if you're talking about severing his head from his neck or servicing his lower head."

Pulling away from her so that he could meet her eye, Cristiano assumed it was the former because while sex was a good way of manipulating someone, he thought the venom Crara contained for the man might eat her from inside if she ever showed him such kindness. "What is it to be, my wife? Are we to lie in wait until a chance to strike, or play nicely and attempt to talk reason?"

branimira was not sure on what to do with the man before her. everything was telling her to run to iskender or to her guard. but as always her guards were nowhere to be seen. hadn’t her husband always said they were always there? but she told herself, he would not dare with so many or if he did? what was the harm? so she stepped closer to him, so close she could feel his heat on her chest. “its so nice to be back where… people understand me, and understand my desires.” she replied, being brace to look up to him. she had never flirted before but the rush was something she was enjoying.

her father was the one man who francisca looked up to. truly her first love, and hopefully will become half of the ruler he was. his praise was hard to find but when it was given she drank it up. she looked to her father and then back to the people they were hosting. yes one can be nice but always have a plan on how to kill them. “the anjous,” she decided looking to her father. “their king is new and there are rumors of how weak he is. and how the grandmother rules through him. and the prince of france, a snake within the grass.”

She cared little for the gifts the King had offered her when she had shared his bed — she cared even less for the space beside his throne; unlike many of the other ambitious women at court, the ones who sought the Queen’s space with glaring eyes and flared nostrils. No, Lucrezi simply went to him out of either loneliness or lost lust, those tendencies coming and going as routinely as the waves against the coastline. 

Hands intertwined, she awaited his not his affection but merely his mouth — his actions trained and precise after a lifetime of chasing girls. Lucrezia felt no shame in the movements they took; she was well aware that she was not of the utmost importance, and in any sense, the lady-in-waiting had chores to attend to — but, it was Cristiano who may eid her in her secret missions, and so she allowed him to do as she wished; even when he kissed her neck. Tilting herself to allow him the room to do what he wanted, Lucrezia hummed and rolled her eyes from one side to the other. The only surprising factor to envelop her was that he had yet to put his hands up her dress, searching for her sweetened intimacies as he had done before. 

“And how would you care to welcome me properly? You have not kissed such delicates in a long time — perhaps you have forgotten what I taste like?” Lucrezia dared to tease, taking one step backwards to allow light to bleed between them as she rearranged her skirts; allowing herself to stand with pride — despite being the daughter of a disgraced house.

The time that had passed since he last held Lucrezia in his arms meant that Cristiano showed slightly more care than he might have otherwise, taking his time to greet her instead of pushing her down on the bed and taking what he wanted with single-minded focus. He explored her neck with lips that trailed upwards to her jaw, shifting closer to her mouth and yet failing to capture her lips as she pulled away before Cristiano complete his journey.

"If I have, then I would seek to rectify that mistake immediately," Cristiano replied, taking in the image of Lucrezia standing there as regal as any woman and yet thinking of her as an offering because she was both at once, a noble lady and a body for him to enjoy, his hands reaching out to find her hips and slide around her body to cup her ass before Cristiano leaned forward to capture her lips, tongue searching for entrance.

“you flatter me, your grace,” ivana smiled as she politely took her host’s arm. “though i must say i am nothing compared to the beauty of your metropolitan. portugal has taken my breath away.” she turned to him. the princess has almost forgotten that the portugese princesses were engaged to prominent men with in the holy roman empire, in her husband’s family to be exact. well, her family now too. she recalled it was briefly mentioned to her. “and that you most certainly are, your grace. a great friend and gracious host to the empire.”  ivana always had a softness towards those women who were married or to be married into the house of colonna. her husband’s house was a strong one that held much esteem but she will admit, this could be a cause of intimidation. the need for perfection heavy on her shoulders, then again, it could just be her who felt that way. 

“looking back, i don’t think i have travelled all that much since my marriage your grace,” she briefly pondered. “i accompanied my husband in some travels of his but i spent most of my time in croatia especially after my son was born, i have been a dedicated mother since— and it is quite hard to travel with children. quite different when i was younger. my mother is italian and so i oft spent summers in her hometown in venice,” ivana chuckled. “lisbon reminds me greatly of croatia, your grace, with the city over looking the sea. truly, i look forward to my time here.”

While Cristiano had no doubt that his daughter would be marrying into a prestigious and well regarded family, Cristiano did care for her happiness and thought there would be something advantageous in his daughter having a friend inside the family before her marriage. As time passed, it seemed that Portugal and the Holy Roman Empire would become more entangled and Cristiano hoped that eventually the lines between them would be so blurred that there wasn't any feeling of disconnect between the two locations. It was perhaps a foolhardy idea, but Cristiano was known for having big ideas and figuring out how to enact them and make them possible was usually the work of other people, if he was being honest. There was a reason that he had so many advisors and they proved their worth over and over, Cristiano would never deny that.

“Well is quite an understatement, Your Grace. Blessed, than any, thanks to such a host,” Nic nodded his head in a fond bow, smirk growing mid bow before he stood, rolling shoulders back.  As the king of Portugal approached, Nic stepped over with an ease, having seen him numerous times in the crowds, standing at the right side of his dear, sweet sister. A woman who walked the earth with a glory as strong as God himself - her gilded halo casting an obnoxious shadow over him, that only Nicoleto could see. Curious, then, how he could forge solid relationships on his own accord, inspect those around him who could begin to see the flecks of flawed mortality within his sister. It would just take some time to influence. Despite his Portugal’s to the Empress, of matrimonial deals, Nicoleto dreamed of a future that could be forged stronger, should he sit on the Empire’s throne. 

He patted Cristiano’s shoulder with a growing grin, shrugging idly at his query, stating with a silver-tongued ease, “Despite the excitement we shared arriving on Portuguese shores, our son didn’t have the heart to leave his homeland. Growing, now, too stubborn an age to listen to reason, too young and sweet to deny. The princess is curious to explore your lands, as am I. Though we only hope to return the favour as host to you and your wife, the queen. How has this time been, doting to your guests?”

While Cristiano wouldn't say that he knew NIcoleto as well as he did the Empress Apollonia, that was something that he was resolved to chance considering that the man's brother would one day be married to his daughter. There families were to be joined and while he wished for the happiness of his children, Cristiano also frequently applauded himself for just how advantageous the matches were for his family. There was respect to be given for the Colonna family, their reputation and strength both in character and in faith something that traveled across the land with the same strength as a strong wind.

she turned, her smile becoming real as she heard her father speak. she took after him, being a social butterfly. and while she knew of her father’s wondering eyes, she turned her cheek but she always wished to ask him how he would feel if it were her and how mama might feel but she kept her mouth closed. she could almost hear the response of. its complex ruling a nation. “oh father, i am loving it,” she beamed to him, nodding. “i am learning so much a tutor could only dream of teaching me.” she could hear the pride but she truly hoped he was proud of her.

it was something of another dream for branimira being with others who shared her faith. while she had studied islam, and knew its sacred dates and events she was the odd one out with staying true to herself and beliefs. florence was a dream and she never thought she would be in the western countries again. she turned, her brunette hair falling to her back as she looked to the man. her smile faltered for a moment. “of course with the nanny and guards back at our small palace, may i ask why you ask?” her heart hammering within its cage.

She knew that she was not as important as her Father’s mother, or her father, or any other Sultana who had her name inscribed with marriage or well-bonded alliances. She knew that with time her name would ascend, preparing her for a greatness that’d stand the risk of time and history. 

Alas, she persisted, as she stood before the Portuguese King with her ladies behind, and a sole guard procured by her father, who remained for the Sultana’s safety (his eyes guarded yet unable to stay upon his liege’s daughter, a rule unspoken off when in Portugal’s borders). 

“I thought it best to come to my host directly, I think discord works better when done in person. Have you had the chance to talk to the Sultan as of yet? He is a grand man, who may speak of things that’d broaden your horizons. After all, you are a coastal Kingdom whereas the Ottoman Empire spreads across land and sea to defy all known constructs of these Western Kingdoms,” singing her father’s praise, she went to walk before him, her skirts dragging behind as she went to pluck a fruit from a basket, inspecting it with narrowed eyes before gesturing for one of her ladies to take it. 

“You have a beautiful palacio, they are a kin to what my Aunt, Hurrem — the wife to Emir Hisham, described of her new home in Cordoba…”

Did she seek to insult him? That was the first thing that crossed Cristiano's mind as Portugal was known for resisting the push of the Ottoman empire, especially when it came to religion, but more than that, Cordoba was likely the purest enemy that Portugal had. They stood blamed for the deaths of the Argonese monarchs, for Crara's family, and speaking of similarities between Portugal and Cordoba was unlikely to endear him to the country.

Still, this was a summit meant to facilitate peace and even if Cristiano didn't believe such a thing would come with Cordoba unless they released their stolen territory to Alexandrina, he would be polite.

"I have not, but I am certain he wouldn't send you here if you weren't trusted to speak on his behalf." And if he had, then perhaps that was another insult, to lead Portugal astray with false promises. "And I am pleased that you see the beauty in my home, just as I hope you are comfortable in place you've been assigned for your stay."