life // beauty

bessie oliveira | countess of carlisle, lady in waiting to the queen of england intro. threads. appearance

joan macdougall | mistress to the king of scotland intro. threads. appearance

leopold habsburg | prince of austria intro. threads. appearance.

he meandered the gardens, stuck in his own thoughts as he made his way down paths boarded by plants- what they were, he couldn’t say, identifying different leaves and flowers had never been his strong suit, much more comfortable with fauna than flora. 

leopold hadn’t realized that he was no longer alone until he practically stumbled across the french queen. “your majesty!” he blurted out, giving the woman a quick bow. “i hope i haven’t disturbed you.”

he had taken over a parlous near his family’s rooms, though there was an open invitation for members of the dutch party to come and go from the room. it allowed him to be surrounded in the familiar dutch tongue, without the mixture of english or french or the multitude of other languages in the air; and to keep a close eye upon his nobility. “wine,  jonkvrouw brandt?” willem asked, pouring himself a glass from a carafe on a table.

A grin came to his face when she took his hand, glancing around the room he looked for any eyes paying attention to them before raising her hand to press a kiss to it. With the masks, he had more freedom to be affectionate with her in public. But still with the members of his wife’s family here, he wouldn’t do something that would openly disrespect Lianhua. No matter how many wives or concubines they had there, they knew it wasn’t common for Scotland anymore and that was the point. Farlan had told Joan as much, even if he hadn’t, she was a smart woman, far smarter than him. 

“Good. It would break my heart to lose you again.” he spoke quietly, his words only for her. “France has many things, but nothing will beat the Highlands. Nothing will beat being able to watch our child run through the halls of Edinburgh with their sisters.” Half siblings or not, he needed them all to be close. He’d never get Joan and Lianhua close, he knew that. But his children would be. “No not alone, I was lucky enough to meet Archibald Von Holland.” The name foreign on his tongue and spoken with distaste. The man who would take his sister all the way to the Netherlands. “One dance then you both need to rest.” 

.

hearing him talk of their child always made her heart skip a beat. she could picture it; a toddler with dark curly hair running down the familiar corridors of the royal castles. she had long thought she would never hold a child of her own in her arms, passing thirty without any sign of pregnancy- it was a shock and a welcome surprise. 

“it cannot come soon enough,” she murmured. she longed for home, and only hoped that they would return before the babe arrived. “and what did archibald von holland do?” she asked, making a note of his tone. she knew the name, the lost standing intended of the princess, a dutch noble. 

her grin was wide at his agreement. “one dance is all i need with you, but i am no so delicate just because i am carrying your child.” 

“Oh is there trouble in your love life?” he joked, walking towards him, “I would have never guessed that, you don’t seem the type to let someone play with your heart like that,” he chuckled, saying this in good fun. He would never judge his friend, he had no room to judge

“she’s not playing me.” he scowled, looking down at his hands. defensive of her, even if they were not on the best of terms, leopold couldn’t help his tone. “tis hardly a game when our nation’s relationship is in such a state.”

the blonde looked up at the familiar voice. she hadn’t noticed her brother was near, but she should have known that he wouldn’t be too far. any other time, viktoria might have teased him about dancing with young woman, but now she was happy to see him, despite his unusual attempts. “in my rooms, anya waits.” the princess pulls the doublet closer around herself. “is it that bad?”

“it’s fine, vik,” he assured her. he didn’t know how bad the spill was in the scheme of things- he had just seen the spill of red, and with all that had happened so far in france he didn’t think it good for a princess to walk around in a gown with a blood coloured stain- even if it was just wine. “i’m sure a good laundress will get it out.” he gently steered his sister towards the doors of the ballroom.

“No one out there interests me,” he shrugged, turning around and leaning against the bannister, wondering if it could hold his entire weight. Well they’d find out, right? “What about you? I thought you’d be dancing the night away with some lover of yours”

leopold let out a scoff, trying to hide it behind his drink. “perhaps if she were not pretending all that passed between us was nothing.” he had not seen her since they had last danced together, her murmur of don’t running through his head, and all her words after it. “i think she is probably too bereft to speak with me.”

“aye…then be careful,” davina murmured, narrowing her eyes. though she was already an aunt to her two nieces, davina was excited for yet another niece or nephew to spoil. she knew not everyone was happy about this pregancy. davina, herself, couldn’t exactly say she supported it, but she was happy for any sort of family she could obtain. 

davina led the way through the crowd, cursing in gaelic whenever people bumped into the two. luckily, most royals took french or spanish lessons and did not focus on learning gaelic. it was one of the reasons, davina felt comfortable speaking with her family whenever something had to remain secret. “aye, the stench in here is noticeable, too” the princess whispered, her lips twitching up into a smile. davina led the other outside onto the balcony and took a lungful of fresh air. “that’s more like it.” 

“believe me, your highness, the only daring thing i intend on doing anytime soon is travelling home once this entire thing is over.” joan only hoped that by the time it came to return to scotland, she wasn’t too far along in her pregnancy for a safe journey. and having a baby on french soil felt wrong to her.

the burst of winter air as they stepped outside hit her in a face; both a shock and a relief when compared with the heat of the palace. “much better,” she agreed. joan lifted her hands to undo the ties keeping her mark in place. “you do not think the french would mind, do you?” she asked, not wishing to insult their hosts. “i shall put it back before we return.”

”Does there need to be a reason to drink, my friend?” he asked as he turned around, smiling softly as he took a sip from his cup. “I swear the parties of the civilians are much more entertaining then noble parties. Remember that one time when we danced with that group of Turkish women?” he said before laughing

“it was so long ago, i hardly can.” five years cooped inside the austrian palace, scarce able to sneak out letters, or travel beyond the hunting forests. “while i doubt there is much dancing in my near future, i’m sure you could coax someone onto the dance floor.” leopold had no wish to dance with anyone other than madeleine, and since their last conversation he doubted she would agree to take to the floor with him- the two had been delicately avoiding each other. 

“Thank you,” she blushed, not expecting to be complimented in return. “May I ask where you got one? I want to try to blend in with this country’s fashion and knowing a designer like yours would be helpful,” she asked brightly.

“i brought it with me, from scotland,” she explained. “though i’ve heard it said that france is one of the most fashionable countries in europe, i’m sure there’s any numbers of tailors near the palace.” she had heard of women in the past who would return to their homes after travel with trunks full of new clothes, and hoods, and shoes- but not many had travelled over the past five years. “the french do seem to be trying to live up to their reputation, after all.”