𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃.

EVGENIYA ROMANOVA, tsarina of russia. ( gif credit: @saibennetts​ ) 

bio / character sheet / tag drop. 

PEDRO AFONSO DE BRAGANÇA, infante of portugal. ( gif credit: @rikgifs )

@glcriousbeavty черное и белое || Vanya & Evgeniya

Nikolai, to her face, had called this a Holiday.

Vanya, fool that she was, believed him. He had smiled at her in that toothy, care free way and Vanya had believed him. The court was to go to France and partake in roaring red Bordeaux and cream cheese and say that all of this was fine and lovely. It would be weeks of saying this is fine and not wanting to throw oneself into the Seine.

Vanya was not a killjoy. She liked a party. She liked an evening in her cups, laughing and dancing and flirting with pretty young men and women who didn’t know any better. She liked it even better when she could retire to her study the next day and get on with her work. Those 4 page letters to the Portuguese ambassador were not going to write themselves.

Speaking of which.

“You’re Grace-” Vanya had her nose buried in a stack of unsigned edicts, reading through a preposterous idea from the Latvian Lords about a new road through Siberia- “-Your royal hand is very much needed as of 3 days ago. You and I both know how fickle the Lords of-”

Vanya had strolled into the royal chambers unannounced, half of her ill-divided attention on the letters in her hand. When she did look up, eyes pale as a glacier ridge and just as cold, they locked onto the only royal that was standing in her stampeding way.

Instantly, Vanya stopped and rooted herself to the spot just inside their personal living room. It was always such an awful surprise to see her here. To see a serf in the Kings rooms. Vanya hated how she appeared to belong here. Vanya hated her.

Like a snake, Vanya coiled suddenly and appeared just as venomous in the single line she eventually uttered “Mad’am.” the word was half a spit as that pale gaze narrowed, nothing short of loathing curling her mouth into a sneer. “Where is the Tsar?” 

. 

evgeniya had noticed the changes. 

it wasn’t like the first or second time, no. in her both pregnancies, the first months were almost like hell. just the smell of her favourite foods or fruits made her stomach feel funny, and her head dizzy. she was always tired, and sleep came at any hour of the day. she wasn’t someone that suffered with sleepless nights, but geniya wasn’t used to feel somnolent all day like she did when she was carrying sacha and yuliya inside her. 

it started with some small things. a tiredness that she wasn’t feeling when after playing with her children, an increase of her appetite and a desire for sugary things. at first, she deemed all of that to be from the change of scenario and travel --- time, in france, was different from russia, explaining her tiredness. and the appetite and desire for sweets, in her head, were also because she was in france. the french savoury foods weren’t of her like, and evgeniya preferred to eat the sweet ones, much for her children happiness. 

however, the changes in her body were what made her suspicious of another pregnancy. a small bump was formed in her belly, exactly like her other pregnancies. but she couldn’t keep her hopes high --- what if it was just coincidences ? maybe the talk she had with nikolai that other night made her hopeful. both of them wanted more children, and while they weren’t actually trying, such things could happen out of nowhere. it wasn’t like sacha or yuliya were planned, after all. 

she found herself in front of a body length mirror inside the russian royal chambers, looking at her side profile. her dresses --- far more loose than usual --- were a great disguise. evgeniya couldn’t put hopes inside her family’s head when she, herself, wasn’t sure if it was really a new pregnancy or something else. but what could be, if not that ? 

as she heard the door open, she quickly turned around to face the mirror, expecting to hear her husband’s smooth voice. instead, she was met with vanya belozernakov’s icy gaze and words, and the tsarina froze in her place. in the past, vanya’s eyes were the most terrifying thing for her --- they were like the sky after a snow storm, and evgeniya couldn’t read her emotions throught them. and, of course, her status was also something that made her uneasy. with just a word from lady belozernakov, she and her family could be sentenced to death. 

but now things were different. evgeniya was above the other woman, in almost everything, but mainly status. the only person above geniya was her husband, but she felt as his equal. vanya couldn’t scare her, not any more. “ ladybelozernakov. ” she greeted the other woman with a small nod with her head, her lips curving into a polite smile. the time when she needed to pamper vanya with courtesies and sweet words was far in the past. “ the last time i heard from him today, he was taking our daughter in a stroll through the gardens. ” the tsarina exclaimed while turning to face vanya. “ anything you need to talk with him, you can do it with me instead. ”

pedro was lost, again, but this time was his fault. why he needed to enter that maze ? he didn't even drink that much to make such crazy decisions --- the french wine couldn't even be compared to the one made in porto, but it was good enough to make him more comfortable and even happier. but he was still moping around, and the infante didn't know why. his thoughts weren't in the right place lately, and he was afraid that something bad was going to happen. he wished his sister was there --- not the younger, but the older. maria. she would've liked such festivities and, for her sake, pedro would enjoy them too. but she was dead, and he didn't saw a reason for celebrating the end of what took her from their family. even the french had lost loved ones, then why celebrate ? why not just a banquet just with some musicians ?

spaniards. pedro didn't like them that much, even though they were the only neighbours of portugal --- perhaps, that was why the infante didn't like them. the story of the two countries was intertwined since the times of the late roman empire, and pedro always feared for a spanish invasion since he was a child. it would make sense, wouldn't it ? portugal was small and had a smaller population if compared to spain, and the two royal families were like cousins --- of course, before his father stepped in the throne. the braganzas didn't have a single drop of spanish blood within their veins, and pedro often worried about that. what if his parents wanted to marry him with one of spanish princess, to make a new alliance between the two neighbors ? he was aware that the late king, his father's cousin, was close to the leons. another thing that would make sense, but pedro wasn't prepared to marry. not yet, at least.

evgeniya never cared if her nikolai's siblings approved or not of their marriage before starting to care for them, as if they were her own. maybe it was in her nature --- she had always cared for her own siblings, why not for her husband's ? it was easier when they were younger and not so influenced by the court's opinions, and way more easier when she didn't have children of her own to take care of. sacha and yuliya weren't brats, but they were still children --- and that made geniya worry for them. she couldn't bring them for such enormous festivity, even though she almost gave in when she saw their puppy eyes. they were, especially sacha, as the presumptive heir --- even if not yet made official ---, the future of the russian empire. however, her heart ache for knowing that they were locked in their rooms, probably crying and trowing tantrums. but it was for the best --- evgeniya didn't know what would happen with her if something happened to them, and she was aware that many wanted to see her children, and her, too, perishing.

@1642hqs-starters·· ━━ leonor + open !

the   queen   was   in   one   of   the   richest   places   in   the   world   .   she   sat   ,   taking   small   sips   of   her   wine   as   the   merchant   set   out   the   fabrics   out   in   front   of   her   .   she   tilted   her   head   just   a   little   ,   this   dress   would   be   the   one   she   would   wear   to   the   first   ball   .   “   i’m   not   sure   ,   ”   she   said   ,   setting   her   glass   down   and   stood   ,   getting   a   better   look   at   the   colors   and   velvets   .   “   they   are   all   luxurious   in   their   own   why   ,   but   which   one   do   you   believe   will   make   a   statement   ?   ”

“ ai mamãe, pelo amor de deus¹. ” pedro complained, looking at all the fabrics in front of him and his mother. he had been dragged by the braganza matriarch to there, and while he didn’t complain to spend some time in the company of his mother, the infante was bored. he was supposed to be in the streets of paris, exploring all the dark alleys and enjoying his youth --- nothing helping his mother picking the best fabric. “ you know i am not the best person to ask this. you should have brought my sister instead. ” he explained, gazing at the fabrics. they all seemed the same for him. his sister was probably a better companion --- she probably knew their mother’s tastes and would be useful. “ maybe the red one ? it is one of the colors of our family. ”

veronika was growing hopeful of her internship with master garnier — after a few days, she tried to organize her schedule so that she would spend every other morning on his shop, being one of the first apprentice to show up on the scene to gather the materials from the night before and to organize the place. instead of seeing it as demeaning, she took the opportunity to learn what she would need to buy when it came her own time to properly venture with sculptures, and to study the designs and to learn the true basics the work demanded, rather than what she was doing home for the past two years, just working with moldable things to try and make something without the help of unnecessary, strange tutors ( regardless of the compliments dmitri had uttered when she presented him a rough dinner set made out of earthenware — she had painted it prettily, and it had been one of her best attempts, but even so, it was only simple things, like the ones they would have had at home, and there was a sparkle of ambition prickling at her that wanted her pieces to belong to somewhere better than a servant’s quarters ).

it was, however well - intended, daring of her to venture so far from the palace, by herself, so, after running with a royal the other day, she decided to pay better attention to the hours, and always make sure she returned when the sun was still high in the sky. her fortune continues good enough for her not to encounter any of the romanov around the corridors of the russian quarters in the chateau, and she sends a pray for the almighty she does not to need to explain herself about the rough wool of the servants’ clothing she had decided to don when away from the palace. until her arrival receives an unexpected welcome — not entirely unpleasant, however. “my lamb!” the youngest glaskova’s rough voice is like honey as she returns the greet of her niece with enthusiasm, dropping to the floor so she may hug the child back, before swooping the toddler in her arms. “were you waiting for auntie to put you down for a nap? or would you like a bath to refresh you? it’s so warm, isn’t it? we can do it quickly!” the hot european summer had been one of her worst plights while in france, and she could only wonder how much worse it must feel to children, increasing the little ones’ tendency to crabbiness.

“well, of course she likes me better.” veronika declares, as a matter - of - fact tone. “don’t you see how i spoil my little mistress?” she teases, poking at yuliya’s sides, much to the amusement of the toddler, who only holds onto her neck tighter. dramatically stepping towards her sister to continue making her niece smile at the gentle jostling, veronika hums at the question posed by the tsarina. “maybe a little out of reach as well, but you know i can not be still for long.” as she takes a pause, the mischief in her voice softens into solicitude. “my absence wasn’t too sorely missed, right? i checked with madame perekuskhina before leaving and she informed me of some of your schedule — i guess it makes sense you’d want some rest after a busy day, ‘hadn’t noticed that. anything fun on your end, though? other than dealing with my princess’ tempers?” the gaiety resumes to her speech on the last bit, as she gently sways her body and yuliya with her.

when nikolai first proposed to her and after the initial shock of accepting and noticing that her life would change drastically, evgeniya thought of her siblings. marrying the tsar meant leaving novgorod and going to moscow and, for a few moments, she thought that meant leaving her siblings too. but she couldn’t --- evgeniya couldn’t leave them with their parents in a life that wasn’t supposed to be theirs, while she would be swimming in all the riches the empire could give to her. evgeniya could not be alright with that. when her soon-to-be husband agreed with her terms --- that being her siblings coming with her --- she was excited to tell them the news. geniya would finally see them thriving in the life that was meant to be theirs, without working until exhaustion for an ungrateful noble, or being used by their parents in unsuccessful plans. and, of course, marrying for love made everything better --- unlike ekaterina and mikhail wanted, evgeniya wasn’t going to moscow as the tsar’s mistress, but as his wife. although she was aware of the distrust some romanovs displayed towards her siblings, to know they didn’t need to worry about how they would survive the winter compensated everything else. 

and, of course, knowing that veronika had a better education than herself and dmitri, and could live the rest of her adolescence in a comfortable way, always made evgeniya tear up. the tsarina gave to her sister everything she didn’t had while growing up, and the sacrifice was worthy of it. and now, seeing how loving her sister treated her daughter, geniya knew that she made the right decision. what would be of her children if veronika wasn’t with them ? of course, they had other aunts and uncles from their father’s family, but she never saw them treating the children so lovingly as nika did. it probably was because of their views on hers and nikolai’s marriage, but neither sacha or yuliya needed to suffer its consequences. if she could, evgeniya would suffer everything and anything for them, if that meant that they would grow up in an amorous household. “ do not spoil her too much. ” she tried to scold her sister, but the smile on evgeniya’s lips betrayed her. “ but i do think a bath would do her good, as it can distract her from the absence of kolya. ” the tsarina didn’t seem to mind the heat too much. it was a pleasant change from the russian weather, but she wasn’t used to it --- and neither the children were. and evgeniya knew how aleksander was complaining about it.  

her eyes widened as she took in the other. he was very handsome and he seemed like the type of person who knew it. mariam barely knew anyone in this palace, but perhaps this new person could be one of her first friends. she wasn’t quite sure on how to make friends, but she’d certainly try. she smoothed down her yellow gown and tilted her head. 

“hello,” she whispered, with a soft smile. mariam never really spoke to boys except her brothers. how was she supposed to act? her lips formed a smile as she shook her head. “no, none of that here. just a lost girl,” mariam explained with the shrugging of her shoulders. she raised her eyebrows. “what if we get even more lost? stuck in this labyrinth forever?” mariam whispered. she nodded her head, lowering into a curtsy. “i am mariam tesafave, princess of ethiopia…it’s a pleasure.” after a moments thought she nodded her head. “i would be honored to join you.” 

. 

it was like he was vasco da gama, being blessed by the goddess venus for his braveness and hard work, and seeing the most beautiful nereid. but the reality was hard, and pedro wasn't his idol, or she was a water nymph. he was a prince and she was probably a noble, and the infante wouldn't be surprised if she was already betrothed. he was supposed to be, but he managed to postpone such matters for as long as he could. it wasn't like pedro didn't want to marry --- he was going to be the second braganza ruler of portugal, and he needed to continue what his father started --- but first, he wanted to explore the world. pedro didn't even need to go to china. just to be at a different place in a ship that was under his red would be enough. and, when he did that, he would be able to marry. what else he would tell his children ? that he stayed five years locked in a castle and only got out to go to france, to see his father sign a treaty that he didn't agree ? portugal didn't need any country when the plague struck, and they were better than almost everyone else.

however, that woman made pedro wanted to have allies --- her country, at least. he didn't trust spain, always fearing that they would try to take the throne from his family, and france was a weak thing. he nodded at her words, smiling genuinely. “ well then, i am just a lost boy too. ” he wasn't proud of that, but being lost brought him to her, after all. “ i am sure we will find our way out of here, trust me, i have the blood of discoverers. ” the infante proclaimed with a proud tone, but he wouldn't find too bad if he got lost with her at his side. “ the pleasure is all mine, your highness. ” he made a proper courtesy --- a princess. that was too good to be true. and beautiful name, who fitted her a lot. mariam's moments of silence passed like centuries, and pedro left a breath he didn't know he was holding out, when she agreed. “ very well, your highness, i am honored to be your companion. shall we ? ”

whenever possible, veronika would take advantage of any open slots in her schedule; that, combined with a freedom not easily granted to those above her, guided her to the center of the city, in some distance to the palace and all the areas well - advised by the king’s ambassadors. perhaps it was a foolish endeavour, but there was only so much she could do within the walls of fontainebleau, and word of a master working on a commission had gotten to her ears a few days back, and, so, her quest had begun. she had left the castle at the crack of dawn, arriving to the workshop almost on the same moment from the other works; she had pestered the master to allow her to observe and take part of the crew for the good portion of an hour, until the threatening of violence — when begging failed, she resorted to planting a few golden coins on his hand so she would be able to work ( almost as if a ghost’s, her father’s voice berated her as she did so, but that was all the old patriarch was by now: a ghost ).

as the sky began to turn a soft shade of purple, veronika knew they were going to run late. kindness comes easy when it is bought, and the master offers them the company of one of his protegees, but promptly they refuse, not wishing to relinquish their independence nor give away their true whereabouts to a boy who may as well be as greedy as his employee. “i have a good sense of direction,” and they did, even in a different city, but even their reliable senses could betray them when they had spent the entire day walking around the borough, in and out of the workshop, while trying their best to serve as their position of the newest worker and also attempting to keep shadowing the master so they would learn his plastering technique.

she has reached one of the parisian squares when she sees the mop of curly hair that seemed all too familiar to her. “dima!” it is dark enough for the confusion, but once she is close enough to place her arm within his, it is clear this boy is not her brother. first, he is that: a boy; his eyes are also much too dark for dmitri’s, but, still, she recognizes him faintly — he’s with the iberian comitive back at the palace, but which one? and how high? furrowing her brows as she tries to guess, she remembers to give their bodies a respectful distance, thankful the poor light of the streets hid the glow of her cheeks. “deep apologies, sir,” she remembers her manners, bringing her arms close to her own body. “i thought you as my brother…the hair,” it is a poor explanation, but it seems she is full of those these days. “this is a long way from the palace.” that was also a hypocritical remark, but at least she had no land nor title to her name to worry about being alive to inherit.

with 𝐩𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐨 𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐳𝐚 @glcriousbeavty·

pedro was well versed in portuguese literature, probably far too much for his father's opinion. the books only increased his love for the sea --- although os lusíadas was a fictional story, pedro wished that, someday, he could do what vasco da gama did in the epic in real life. if he could be at least a third of the adventurer vasco da gama was, pedro would fulfill his wishes. however, it was a shame that the plague had stopped the portuguese caravels of discovering new places and new riches. one day, when he would be king, pedro would be the leader of an entourage to discover new places. he didn't care for riches or power, unlike his ancestors, who only sought new places for gold, silver or spices. it wasn't power that drove pedro, but the sheer excitement of getting in touch with different cultures and people. as much as his stay in france was an opportunity to do that, it wasn't the same thing. portugal and france we're almost neighbors, and the travel was made by land, and not by boat. he wanted to feel the wind and the saltiness of the sea in his face for such experience. and, of course, he was meeting more people like him --- people that needed to follow a decorum, who wear gold-embroidered clothing and wear gemstone jewelry, unlike the people he was going to know on his own epic story.

and he took every opportunity to leave the castle as he could. even if it was to read alone in a less crowded square --- pedro was sick of the nobles and their antics. no one seemed to understand his desire for adventure or travelling, always looking down at him like he was a child. the infante was aware that his dreams could be foolish, but, once, they were a reality. with the people, however, pedro could speak freely. even though they weren't his people --- the portugueses had a warmth that he couldn't find in the frenches --- and didn't share the same love for the sea or navigation, they didn't look at him like he's a bad type of crazy, unlike the nobles. it wasn't what he wanted, but it was better. pedro left the palace that morning with just a copy of o auto da barca do inferno on his hands and a few coins to buy food, those being the only thing he needed to survive. he had read a little and was too caught up --- even though he knew the auto by heart --- to notice the sky now dark. “ puta merda. ” the infante cursed in his mother tongue, worried about how the implications of the prince of beira being missing for an entire day could bring. he sat up, preparing to leave.

sometimes he could not believe the luck he had. how different would his life be if he didn’t take evgeniya as his bride? he would be considerably less happy and his two amazing children would cease to exist. but he was happy, truly and deeply. he loved his wife and his children more than words could express. nikolai understood that this was only able to happen because he was the tsar. were he any other man, he may not have had the power of choice. was he being selfish? perhaps he was a selfish man. he would give his life for russia- wasn’t that enough? 

he grinned, dark eyes scanning his wife’s features that he memorized many years ago. “you may call me anything you like,” nikolai teases, hoping to see her cheeks flush a pink hue. though they have been married for 10 years, it was still so easy to laugh with her and love her. he didn’t understand why people still rejected them. the mood changes slightly and he nods his head. family was always difficult to navigate. while none of his sisters would disagree with him in public, it was not hard to imagine what they said in the privacy of their own groups. except for karina, of course. nikolai knew for a fact that his middle sister supported their marriage almost as much as he did. nodding his head, he released a sigh. he knew sending yekaterina to england was the best option for her but too often she felt too far away from him. perhaps he really was a selfish man as he wanted his family close to him forever. “perhaps. we may cross paths in france. i intend to have a meeting with her husband to reaffirm our alliance.” he glanced at his wife. “we must begin a search for tatiana’s match. i am sure there is an eligible man in france.” 

he laughed, the action erasing any stress he had moments before. nikolai thought evgeniya was most beautiful when she was laughing. after marrying nikolai, he was worried that the stress of court would take her happiness away. “evgeniya!” he mimicked, a smirk appearing on his face. he copies her actions and rests against one of his elbows. raising an eyebrow, he hums. “you’re bewitching me…perhaps illya? or vasily?” 

.

nikolai's words always had an effect on her. they could light her mood or darken it --- even if that didn't happen often --- and evgeniya only managed to give him a shy smile in return, her cheeks heating up. she was a tsarina, only below the tsar, but geniya still felt to be the same handmaiden that always kept her eyes gazing the ground and lips in a thin line. she was getting better at hearing such things leaving nikolai's mouth, though. the first time she did it, years ago, she was a blushing mess --- even if she didn't believe it. how could he, the crown prince of the largest empire of all europe, falling for her ? someone that didn't have a name, or lands ? who was nothing compared to all the noblewoman who wanted to be the next tsarina ? evgeniya still didn't believe it, and almost everyone else did. but, when evgeniya saw her children playing together and the loving gazes her husband directed to her and the children, geniya knew that it wasn't a lie. “ oh, stop it, my kolya. ” she giggled teasingly, looking at nikolai lovingly. 

she noticed the shift in the mood at the mention of yekaterina. if she could, evgeniya would take all of nikolai's problems for herself. her heart break when she saw his furrowed brow or his tense shoulders --- geniya was used to deal with problems, growing up as a handmaiden. she was endured by the tension and screws of both her mother and her superior. as much as she knew that situations couldn't compare to what nikolai faced, evgeniya just wanted to see her husband happy. “ i think you should cross paths with her, my love. i am sure yekaterine will be happy to see you. ” but not her, though. of nikolai's sisters, karina was the only who supported them. tatiana did, once, and evgeniya couldn't understand why her feelings shifted, almost out of nowhere. it was painful, at least in the beginning. geniya always wanted nikolai's family approval --- but after almost a decade together, and some of them still seeing her with distrust, was bothersome. she nodded at his words about meeting his brother-in-law. it would be good. “ yes, i think that's a good idea. do you believe the rumours surrounding him ? ” evgeniya asked without scruples, used to be sincere in the company of her husband. “ i do not think she would like my intervention, dearest. ” the tsarina smile sadly at nikolai, a thoughtful expression on her face. “ but maybe the portuguese infante ? or even the crown prince of austria ? ”

evgeniya wished nikolai could laugh more. he had a beautiful laugh, and she didn't hear it often --- in fact, she only remembered hearing it when he was with her or their children. she understood that he needed to pass a strong and cold façade as the tsar, just like the russian winters. but geniya preferred him like that. “ do not mock me ! ” she tried to sound angrier, but the ghost of a laugh betrayed her. evgeniya would never be angry at him, no matter what nikolai did. she scootered closer to her husband, her free hand caressing his bearded cheek. “ am i a witch, now ? ” her tone had nothing but playfulness, however, evgeniya was used to be called a witch --- but in an offensive way. “ i like illya, and i think the children will be happy with a new sibling. but what about a girl, then ? yuliya would be happy with a sister. ” evgeniya explained, getting her face close to nikolai's, finishing her words with a chaste kiss on the corner of his lips.

Olivier knew better than most that this was more than just Pedro, but that may be because they sincerely doubted that the Portuguese caravan would bring along another with the same name as their Infante. Olivier won’t show their hand, though - after all, if they both want to pretend to be commoners, so be it - they wouldn’t ruin their fun. “I think being lost is a personal state of being,” they reply, their voice smooth. “One chooses to be lost. You could be in the middle of a forest and not be lost if you do not think you are lost. So. Are you lost, just Pedro?” Taking another step closer to him, they grin, their voice fond already, even if it’s thanks to the of the many months of correspondence between the two of them. “Where are you trying to go? Around here is a big place. The palace is a big place. The gardens are a big place. Paris is an even bigger place. But… I may be able to help. I know these grounds well.”

           𝐜𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬   𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠   𝐭𝐨   𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭   𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭   𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞   𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞   𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧   𝐚𝐧   𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 ,       𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧   𝐭𝐨   𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐚𝐥   𝐢𝐭𝐬      true  nature :      good  or  bad .       a  intricate  thread  now  linked  the  two ,       contrary  to  the  instance  of  their  first  and  so  far  only  brief  interaction    𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳  𝘢  𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘥𝘦    ago .       yet ,      the  now  king  was  prompt  to  recognize  the  woman  before  him      ―      once  a  handmaiden ,     now  a  tsarina :      his  wife’s  sister - in - law  and  the    𝙚𝙭𝙖𝙘𝙩    person  he  wanted  to  find .

as  gabriel  approached  evgeniya ,     there  was    𝘯𝘰  𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘵    of  hesitation  to  paint  his  stance      ―     even  at  odds  with  the  possibility  of  not  being  recognized ,     for  long  time  had  passed .      an    𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙢𝙥𝙩    was  made  of  a  smile ,      but  layers  of  concern  would  lay  far  too  heavy  upon  the  king’s  mind  for  it  to  be  a  successful  effort .

                 ❝  your  highness .  ❞       the  englishman  said ,      simply ,      stare  apparently  casual  upon  those  posing  as  her  companion  so  far :      yet  act  to  strongly    𝙨𝙪𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙨𝙩    them  to  leave  both  be .        ❝  mind  walking  with  me ?     the  gardens  look  rather  welcoming  and  i  believe  we  have  some  matters  to  discuss .  ❞

closed  starter  to    @glcriousbeavty·

the tsarina couldn't deny was she was nervous to meet other royals, especially the ones who had ties with her husband's family. yekaterina was now katherine, and she still had a difficult time calling her sister-in-law by her westernized name. it didn't have the strength her russian name had, but evgeniya could understand why yekaterina did that. she would, too, change names if that meant acceptance. what would evgeniya do for that ? sometimes she found it pathetic and hated herself for being that weak, but only she knew what she endured on the first years of her marriage. but now that was in the past, and evgeniya could feel the future was brighter than it seemed.

the summit meeting was something that evgeniya saw as the first step for that happening, even if she couldn't do much in it. all the work was in nikolai's shoulders, but she tried to influence things in the way women could do --- friendships and sweet words. but, when a man --- that she deemed to be her husband's brother-in-law, the king of england --- approached her, so hoped to be useful for her country's agency.

closed for: @glcriousbeavty·

location: outside a palace library

queens were not always blessed with true and honest friends and scotland’s queen was no different. sure, she had her inner circle of supports, those who insisted they were loyal and loving but euphemia knew the foundation of these relationships was obligation. she was their queen and nothing could change that, meanwhile anyone who could be considered a peer was far-flung across the globe, responsible for their own kingdoms. perhaps that was why long ago, a cordial letter to the tsarina of russia had blossomed into a robust correspondence. although the two had never met, evgeniya held an affectionate place in her heart and she occasionally wondered if some small part of her appeal had to do with the legendary love match that had precipitated her marriage to tsar nikolai. though she knew better than to covet what her friend had, the notion of true romantic love was somewhat of a curiosity to euphemia who had been married for fifteen years now, many of those years spent happily and some not so happily. aye, the scots loved their queen but she herself had been questioning nearly half her life whether the king could truly say the same and for that matter, could she?

she thought of it now as she sat contentedly in a modest library, eschewing french works for a book of scottish poetry she’d received as a wedding present. grey eyes skimmed familiar verses as approaching voices chattered outside the open door in the conspiratorial tone of ladies-in-waiting, women who saw and knew all. that was the little tsarina, wasn’t it? yes, well, regardless of that old scandal she is quite pretty. as the scraps of gossip retreated, the queen felt a bolt of excitement in her chest, inelegantly hauling herself up from the chair she was ensconced in and quickly scurrying out into the cavernous hall without even stepping into the shoes she’d unconsciously slipped off. golden curls bounced as she turned her head to the right and then to the left, seeing a figure approaching from the direction the ladies had seemingly just come, dressed in an unfamiliar, sumptuous style.

“dearest evgeniya, is that you?” she called out, pink-cheeked and breathless, without a care for protocol or formalities. if she was mistaken then the embarrassment would be well worth it for her friend across the continent was one of the many reasons she’d been looking forward to traveling to france. 

evgeniya couldn't say she had many friends besides her siblings. it was natural as the sun shining in the sky --- dmitri was with her since the womb, and veronika came into her life when she was ten. with the routine they had, friends was a luxury that only nobles could have. she could hear her mother's voice, harsh and cold, saying that such bonds would only hold her back and outmaneuver, deceiving her to steal her position and everything she loved. sometimes she wondered if ekaterina wasn't projecting something that happened in her past upon her daughter, but geniya followed her words. it was a cruel place, the duke's house --- she could understand why her mother told her that, but it was lonely. of course, dima was always with her, but it was different. she wished she had someone who she could share experiences and giggle when they saw a beautiful man, something she couldn't do with her brother, or sister, because veronika was too young for that. however, evgeniya knew the true loneliness when she became tsarina. to be a noble was even crueler than being just a handmaiden, and evgeniya knew she could only trust on her family: siblings, husband and children. not even her husband's family could be trusted, as they didn't support her. yet, evgeniya managed to find a single flower germinating in the barren land ---- euphemia stuart, the queen of scotland, who made for her more than the scottish queen would know.

to be in france meant that it was an opportunity for the two queens to met, but evgeniya always found herself occupied, either with her children or family. the tsarina didn't care, especially now, watching her son dragging her into the endlessly shelves of the french library. geniya knew his curious nature was a trait inherited and even influenced by his aunt, and she couldn't be prouder of both. she didn't want her son to be just a ruler, someone who only knew economics and strategies --- but a person, and she knew that having veronika handling his education, her whishes would be fulfilled. she smiled encouragingly at sacha when a servant came to fetch him to one of his classes, kissing his forehead gently and laughing when he said for her to stay still that he would be back quickly.

              𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬   𝐚𝐧𝐝   𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧   𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝   𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧   𝐭𝐡𝐞  𝐟𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬   𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭   𝐨𝐟   𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 ,      𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠   𝐢𝐭        with  hues  of  sudden  wariness  from  the  princess  onward  the  stranger’s  presence :      the  latter ,      still ,      𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘺    able  to  single - handedly  change  it  all .      caution  was  quick  to  shift  into  absolute  shock  before  asperity  in  his  words      ―      yina  barely  able  to  hide     𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚     to  cross  their  features  for  brief  seconds .

                    ❝  there’s  no  need  for  you  to  be  a  stinker .  ❞       she  said  in  a  rare  reflection  of  her  true  tempe ,       stance  moving  into  a  more  annoyed  one  as  surprise  once     𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯     touched  their  countenance .         ❝  what ?!     no  way !     you’re  not  going  with  me ,      stop  acting  like  we’re  on  the  same  page  here !       we’re  not  even  in  the  same  imaginative  library ,     go  away !  ❞

words  followed  vainly ,      but  enough  for  them  to  see  that  there  was  no  easy  way  out  of  it       ―      two  options  would  lay  before  her :      they’d     𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙤     take  the  other  along  or  not  go  out  at  all .      a  grunt  came  with  a  new  sense  of  hurry ,     yina  taking  more  clothes  besides  the  ones  she’d  already  hold :      just  to     𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘷𝘦     them  against  the  other  monarch’s  chest .

                    ❝  fine ,      put  these  on ,     don’t  dare  to  complain  about  any  of  it  and  be  quick !  ❞       a  second  of  silence ,      and  then  again .        ❝  and  turn  around !      i  need  to  change  too  before  someone  catches  us !  ❞

“ a stinker ? ” pedro asked almost offended, a hand on his heart in a mocking way. he wasn’t a stinker, and unlike some of his europeans neighbors, he tried to bathe at least once a day. he wasn’t a stinker, and he didn’t know why he was reacting that way. “ you are a stinker, not me ! ” it was almost like he was a child again, bickering with his siblings for a toy or for their parents’ attention. 

his brows were furrowed. pedro asked nicely, at least. he was a prince, he could demand her anything he wanted --- but he did not. “ why not ? we are two royals --- at least i assume you’re one --- who are trying to escape this hellhole. we are on the same page, queridinha. ” a smirk made its way to his face, and pedro shrugged. “ what are you going to do to make me go away ? punch me ? ” he scoffed, looking down at them. 

Pedro with the Portuguese caravan. A smile rose onto Olivier’s expression as he approached them, wondering what to do with this opportunity they were presented. They’d exchanged plenty of letters with this man over the years, but never shared portraits. Pedro had just showed his hand with an introduction, but Olivier hadn’t. So do they play with him? Or do they show their hand in return? “I am a Frenchman,” they confirm - their accent was too thick to disguise themself as anything but that. But they didn’t reveal their identity quite yet, wanting to hear what sort of help Pedro wanted from a Frenchman. “Welcome to France, Pedro with the Portuguese caravan. Are you lost?” They folded their hands behind their back - they’d played this role before, always to the irritation of their older siblings and, back before… everything, the delight of their younger ones. They’d tricked many a visitor into thinking that they were an average servant, eager and willing to please. It was always amusing getting to flip the script, to get to tell the person he was the Prince Olivier after everything. “What can I help you with?”