WE HAD IT ALL.

TWO YEAR TIME JUMP /  georgette of scotland

In two years time Georgette of Valois’ life has transformed at a rapid rate. Soon after her father consented to the conditions of James of Scotland’s proposed betrothal, details were squared away and preparations were well underway for the union of a French Princess and a Scottish King. In early 1537, Georgette’s hand in marriage was happily given to King James, and the royal couple were presented in Scotland to the tune of uproarious support and schismatic dissent. In the year that followed the union, Georgette was fondly coined Scotland’s ‘summer Queen,’ although her efforts to bear her husband a child and her new country an heir yielded in little luck. She remains to the day a private figure of court, little is known of her among her subjects as her own bashfulness regarding Scottish customs and the Gaelic tongue inhibit her from stepping into the role of magnanimous royal. Still, with the dowry that is endowed to her Georgette has made massive contributions to the construction of Catholic abbeys in Scotland and has taken several wards of the crown under her patronage. She remains politically uninvolved, although her interest has shifted more recently, and her return to England has allowed that desire to gain momentum. 

It had been a year since he had been in court. A year since Arthur had died. The thought of it still stung. The two brothers had been as different as day and night, but they had shared an unbreakable bond, or so he’d thought. Death had proven him wrong. Old habits had him riding out alone, arriving at Hampton Court before anyone could have been warned that he was coming. There was a time that warning could have been very useful. He’d always tried to see how close to the line of trouble he could get without crossing it. He’d found himself on that line more times than he could count, and it had been Arthur who had always pulled him back. Not anymore. Now he had too many responsibilities to cause trouble, and no one to restrain him. Still, a glimmer of the man he’d once been crossed his face as he swung himself off his horse. “Did they miss me, hmm?” He asked his horse before noticing he wasn’t as alone as he’d thought. “What do you think? They missed me, right?” 

     Some claim her eyes are as judgmental as her tongue, and she does watch as the French princess takes her seat.  Margaret notices when Georgette finds pain in her steps, and then pales as if she matches her shade, aside from the lovely red, with the glimpses of white light through the windows.  Reflections of snow, no doubt, more than the sun…yet the spring draws nearer now.  Margaret hadn’t been outside to check today, but maybe the weather has simply affected Georgette.  In her heart, Margaret wants to think that it’s temporary if James has truly favored her.  In her mind, she knows it’s not a good sign.  Scotland can’t afford a weak Queen.  James needed a strong wife to bare him children, to help manage the throne, and a wife who can survive the harsh journey across the sea.  But Margaret has always followed her heart, hasn’t she?

     Her thoughts’ warnings fade behind a genuine smile.  “Nonsense, your company is always welcome.  You may join me any time you wish,” she offered, waving the doubt away.  The Dowager Queen couldn’t very well play cards by herself, or gain much enjoyment playing with a passing ghost.  They were hardly worthy opponents, and it sounded like Georgette’s ladies tired of the game far too fast.  Hands busied themselves with a shuffle, contemplating for which game she should make the deal.  The uncertainty, the gamble.  Did risks ever have a happy ending?  Margaret thought they did sometimes, as she’d ended up alright in Scotland those first few years.  “Aye, it’s as with life.  Full of uncertainties.”  She started to deal.  “My mother and father taught me as child.  We would often play as a family,” she remembered those days fondly, even if she’d thrown several fits at Henry for ‘cheating’.  Arthur would let her win.  “I hear most of yours has been arrived to Hampton as of late?  I’ve been meaning to meet with your father.”

                         ––         Scrutiny was a necessary component in the lives of Europe’s royalty. Kings and Queens were anointed, not appointed; ordained in an abbey, not selected in an election. They were reflections of absolute sovereignty and stapled to that was an enormous responsibility. Georgette was more than able to swallow the Queen Dowager’s icy scrutiny, having endured a similar treatment the majority of her life, with only flickers of fear and an urge to flee kindling in her marrow akin to the preliminary sparks of a flame. Even so, the compulsion to draw comparisons was difficult to stifle once born. Margaret Tudor embodied the woman few had the luxury of becoming; willful, autonomous, surrounded by a throng of kings willing to declare war on the first man to harm a single stand of scarlet hair upon her head – her son included. Georgette eyed her warily, an uncertain brew of envy, respect and apprehension fermenting in the pits of her stomach. 

     Henri could feel the tension radiating from his person. His shoulders were rigid as he reached for the cup of wine. It was not the first time he’d left his father’s presence feeling the same, yet there had been something present underlying that tension. He found himself remembering times when he was yet a boy, wide eyed and awed by the bravado of his father, his king. Age had seen to wither that away, but it lingered deep in his chest out of spite. 

      “I can hear her voice,” Henri began, thinking somewhat fondly of one of his late mother’s ladies. “She would tell me I ought to refrain from such sport in observance of the commands of merciful Christ.” He commented, setting the cup aside to feel the weight of the bow in his hand. It was steady beneath his palm, familiar, comforting almost. He did not wish to deny himself this, but he couldn’t help but think of her advice. A pious, devout woman. He’d admired her in his youth, even if she’d driven him mad with her unsolicited advice. “What think you of partaking in archery–shall I deny mine self or continue practicing that I might best mine enemies?” 

                   ––          The mention of Christendom upon her brother’s tongue was perhaps rarer than the sight of a bumblebee in the midwinter, and just as capable of stinging. She approached the crown prince with stealth, little giving her away save for the rustling of her damask shirts as she emulated a lioness stalking through the tall grass, listening acutely to Henri’s navel-gazing admissions. Georgette’s hands darted out to capture the chalice he set aside as it teetered precariously on the edge of the table whilst Henri’s attentions diverted to the bow resting in his palm. As cold air eddied within the cavernous chambers of her lungs, the princess released a sigh of relief, joining her brother at his side and perching her hands upon the lithe expanse of her waist. 

■  – BEDROOM / HOUSE / LIVING QUARTERS HEADCANON

    -    To say that knowing the French Princess had rejected his advisor’s advances did not do wonders for James’ ego would be a great falsehood, though he was careful to not be too openly smug over the matter and instead responded with an acknowledging nod and a smile which dared to almost beam. “ Sir Archibald is one of my advisors, yes, and I must apologise for admitting that this makes me feel somewhat proud. I am indeed most honoured that you would gift such a pivotal moment to myself and yet I am filled with hope that you will announce this to be your first dance in England and not your last; that would be too much of a shame for my poor heart to take. ” With a lightness to his step, James was most happy to follow Georgette into the den of dancing courtiers, offering yet another bow once he was planted into place and a hand offered its self in keeping with the others around them. “ Curiosity is a most charming trait that should never be overlooked, it is what fueled our initial encounter, or so I believe. Perhaps I shall satisfy you one day, but only if you will answer me this; what do you think my business was in the city? If you would be so kind as to indulge me I may show you, if fate aligns its self in a way which would allow me the pleasure of doing so. ”

    -    “ You are already so eloquent, your highness, and the time you have dedicated to perfecting the English language is truly most complimentary to the English people. I don’t imagine you shall have much use for it once you return to France but it gives quite an advantage as a conversationist. ” Anne could not be so bold as to say she saw something of herself in a woman of royal birth but there had been many similarities that had occurred to her and made getting along with Georgette quite effortless, even with the harm done to her ego in stepping down from being a countess. “ The Scottish language is a mystery to myself also, I can assure you that you are not alone in that. While we may be of sister lands they are far more celt than we, our differences often more of a focus point that similarities, and I might go as far as to say that the English and French have much more in common than with the Scottish - though that may be my own personal bias. …Which Scotsman might that be? ” The question was elevated into the air with an intrigued peak of a brow and a smile of mischief upon Anne’s lips, though the expression only lasted for a moment before melting to a much softer countenance. “ You are never too bold. I fear we all experience this challenge when we venture to a foreign land but most overcome it, as I did and as you shall. You see, my desire to educate myself and to experience all I was able to outweigh the whispers of overlooking men and gossiping ladies until they ceased to exist or matter. In fact, your mother was the greatest comfort to me during my time and I translated for her also… It is strange how history repeats its self, no? Perhaps one day we shall find ourselves here again and we will laugh over the times these languages were a mystery to you, then you will be telling the Scotsmen off for yourself. May God have mercy on them. ”

Many rules didn’t apply when it came to Georgette, but Francis was trying his best not to give in to her request off the bat, attempting to withstand Georgette’s clear and most effective maneuvers that normally would make him give in to her. “Hm, and while you may believe it to be mutually beneficial, I am still your father and your King, ma petite, and that gives me the option to agree or disagree to these conditions as I please. However, proceed for I will listen to your terms.” 

He raised an eyebrow to his daughter and tilted his head, urging her to continue. “I am aware of your advisor, Monsieur Baro, yes.” he said, slightly surprised at the turn that the conversation had made. “While I do not deny that Monsieur Baro has performed well under certain… pressures.. that you have caused on your household- of which several reports have been given to me by your ladies, which we will discuss another time…” Francis paused, giving his daughter a mildly chastising look. “Does he not go where you go, as it is now? It certainly seems that the man is never far from where you are to offer you council. I do not understand why it would come to you taking the initiative to have him ennobled..” Francis tried to think of what would implore his daughter to request such a thing for someone else, but he could not come up with reasoning that made sense. “Has he asked you to speak for him, ma petite? I would have thought that Monsieur Baro would come to me directly and suggest his own ennoblement.” 

                                 The notion that Georgette’s character was anything less than gracious was a nuisance that had long since made waves throughout court–failing waves, perhaps earthquakes. It did not help but rather hurt Georgette’s credibility that her aunt and guardian for most of her life, Marguerite of Navarre, was quick to dismiss even her eldest of ladies-in-waiting at the slightest inkling or suspicion of misconduct, abetting rumors to smolder and spread like wildfire to the chagrin of her father. Indeed, Georgette knew that she could be thorny, and perhaps difficult to govern, but these were all such traits that the Valois were famed for and Francis himself had popularized at court, twisted into becoming the characteristics of both king and insolent princess.  ❛  You may be my king on the throne and in the courtroom, but it is just us two here, papa–will you truly deny me my father?  ❜

    -    “ If I am ignoring you, your highness, then there is not another existing French soul on God’s earth in my eyes. What you believe to be ignorance is quite the opposite, I find myself lost in the quest to find the word to express my desires to a woman in the possession of as much beauty and grace as you hold this night. ” The Scottish King’s head tilted in an attempt to conceal their conversation from any passing courtiers, discretion being the theme for the night giving James both the confidence to be bold but also the desire to keep that openness between the two of them in spite of the very public setting. In spite of the mask worn to conceal one’s identity, James’ decision to wear a kilt of Royal Stewart tartan was far from subtle and, whilst the French Princess’ attire was not quite as telling, he was convinced he would have known her even if she had chosen to conceal her scarlet locks. “ I beseech yer forgiveness, to ignore you would be to ignore God’s greatest creation, and I pray you might accept my offer to dance and pity me for the poor, besotted that I am. ” The offer was extended with a low bow and the offer of a hand, sapphire eyes looking up from the darkness of his mask whilst a hopeful, boyish smile played upon his lips in hope.

Despite the bland politeness in the air between them - a stiffness in both of their postures born of both the strange situation and years of training dude to station - Anne smiled at the princess’s words, nodding in agreement. “I think you must be correct, my Lady. We have always been a people who crave livelier fare.” Smiling to herself Anne shifted to look at Georgette properly, hands folded delicately over the fan she had discarded. “They simply must not know the true extent of sport. Perhaps our presence here will change that.”

Georgette was a tender thing - very much the way Anne remembered Claude herself being. However, her spirit was far more fiery than the late Queen’s had ever been, and Anne found she had to admit that she felt a great admiration for the princesse’s character. “That sounds like a lovely time. Perhaps I shall have to venture in that direction before my time in England is through. It is not so often we cross over to this little island.” Anne smiled, the dark veil of her hood shifting as she tilted her head, though the blond of her hair peeked through. “I am glad to hear your health is improved. I am well, though I am quite desirous to return to my chambers now, I think.” She moved to stand, hearing the rustle of skirts as her maids stood with her. “Would you and your ladies do me the honor of your company? I think the tennis is not what I hoped. Perhaps we could have a bit of dancing, or some other activity if it might suit you, your highness.”

     -    “ No offence was caused, in fact she was found to be a relief from the trappings of court. ” James believed himself to be even more embarrassed than she, after all to swiftly grab a woman of royal blood and to speak with her in a humorous manner would be seen to be disrespectful within palace walls, fortunately she had not held it against him and so he would not hold her scolding remarks in a negative light either. Though he did believe he would not be so fortunate had he not been king of a neighbouring kingdom. “ I place any success at ye’ feet, yer highness, for ye’ favour is surely to thank for them all. I must admit that I had enquired on ye’ whereabouts, ye’ absence was greatly noticed, alas I wasny aware you were unwell. Might I ask how you fair this eve? For you appear as though you still fall victim to a fever, in fact all others appear pale in comparison. ”

 The customary greeting of kisses upon ones cheeks was not a token on intimacy, but Serge experienced each kiss onto his person as a blissful moment of quiet affection. He sighed, melted, and pressed a loving token of his own affections onto a single cheek, pulling away as to display the full gleam of delight that sparkled beneath his blue eyes.  “I only thank you for allowing me into your countenance, once more.” They had no reason to thank one another for intimacies; yet they lapsed into the habit easily, skirting around each other as if they were nervous lovers, meeting under the cover of night fall. Like the familiar companion he was, he found a well-loved spot in her apartment, reclining as to better obverse her person as they conversed. They had been separated in duty the past days; a pity in his eyes, to be parted from the only soul who inspired affections such as undying love in his person. He loved his King, his country, but only Georgette captured his personal affections; those that were not borne from duty, but instead, in response to all she dared to be. “The King is well, although I have no doubt his ego suffers from his defeat. Only the English managed to triumph - I do not believe this to be a mere coincidence, but that is neither here nor there.” Teeth burrowed into curled lips as he surprised a grin; conspiracies involving the Crown were a source of delight for the two, but their time could not be wasted on such useless, nefarious affairs. The mention of the forthcoming masquerade ball earned a shrug from the man; he looked forward to Georgette’s gown (and the happiness, inhibited and gleeful, a ball would illicit in her person) and company only. Her magnificence would ransom any King. “You know already I shall be easily identifiable - I have no care for dressing up for these occasions. A simple gold mask, and my nose, prominent as ever; I shall be plain to you as day. Your hair shall easily make you known to me, but should I worry that you will be to preoccupied with suitors, to spare me a dance?” 

@georgetteofvalcis

     The treaty was settled long ago that her son would marry a French bride to keep the Auld Alliance.  Margaret reluctantly agreed, trying to appease the Duke of Albany, whose power she had needed at the time to keep her own in Scotland.  She always wanted an English alliance more than a French one, but maybe all three countries could live in peace now under her nephew’s rule.  Regardless, her son needed a wife and holding the King of France to his promise would be easier when he and his family were here in Hampton.  Easier after the celebrations were over and everyone still remained joyful.

     Rumors reached her letters about the French king preparing to offer one of his daughters to James, and Margaret expected no less than one of the highest ranking women in France.  She wanted her son to marry who he liked, however, and she’d not pushed a certain princess, but let him decide on his own.  Her ladies noticed and told her that thus far he gravitated towards one princess in particular, and so Margaret had chanced the meeting, wanting to get to know the girl for herself.  “Princess Georgette,” she called, her tone warm, welcoming, and she offered the empty seat at the playing table where she’d lingered and toyed with a deck of cards.  “Would you care to join me for a game?”

                                  Georgette treaded carefully where the English and Scottish were concerned. The bonds that existed between them seemed to predate all logic itself, and she was not so blind to the inner machinations of courtly politics to claim that she did not hear the powerful beating of the Auld Alliance’s heart, nor would she stand to say that she did not drift in its epicenter as the sister of a candidate for James of Scotland’s hand. She met the king only a handful of times, once under intriguing circumstances, and had been afforded only minute glances of the queen mother, and princess of England, Margaret Tudor. She was an enviable, enigmatic woman – one whom Georgette admired greatly and even more so wished to emulate. But she could not shake the feeling, as she was beckoned to the dowager’s playing table, that she was being evaluated; as the youngest jewel in the crown of France, and arguably the frailest, she heartily doubted she would ever fall under the attention of the Scottish king but her appearance and character could grant the Scots a glimpse into what royal French breeding took form as.

“The day to day of court has upsides, but I wish I could wear this dress more than just tonight.” She smiled, glad to talk about herself. “I was inspired by the tales of Camelot and Queen Guinevere, they are one of the few tales that managed to hold my attention as a child. They still hold a fond place in my memories.”

    -    When presenting her cause before the King she had expected hardship, a punishment of some sort, but now it felt as though she had been given a lifeline by the young Monarch. A stark contrast to what may have befallen her at the hand of his father and his bruised ego. To be in the presence of French Royalty was to be surrounded in familiarity, for France was both a home and the making of a young Anne Boleyn once upon a time, but she truly could not have asked to be in the service of anyone better than the daughter of a Queen whom Anne adored dearly. All assistance and guidance were given out of care and sympathy for the Princess opposed to obligation and duty, for Anne recalled all too well what it was to land in a strange Kingdom and surrounded by a tongue which was not as familiar as your mother’s. “ Only if you believe it will help, your highness, I do not wish to discourage only I remember that such dedication aided my sister and I greatly in our bid to learn French as well as we knew our English. ” Sassenach, it was not a word Anne used nor did she hear it often but when it was spoken it was rarely intended in a kind light. The Scots had a colourful way with language and Gaelic was more often than not their saving grace in English court, which did add to the magnificence of having a court full of such variety in tongues and dress, though Anne was most displeased at the thought that it might spill over in malice towards her French Princess. “ Have they used this word in relation to yourself? I have mostly used it heard in relation to English men, usually those towards the border between Scotland and England, but I believe it simply means ‘outsider’ or ‘outlander’. ”