Of // Royal + Blood

Her gown was a confection of starlight swirling within vestments of brocade and cloth-of-gold, till she seemed to gleam by her own power moreso than the fluttering candles whose dim illumination seemed to bend meekly away.

“Not at all,” he replied.  “Indeed, I must confess to be all amazement that such an effect may be achieved in so small an amount of time.  I would say that your steamstress has outdone herself, save for the simple fact that she owes it all to your own particular charms – you would look as radiant in sackcloth.”

He chuckled softly, arching his brows.  “A guessing game, then?”  Gently his eyes traced her face, slowly finding her gaze.  

His mind rushed, unbidden, to the Tower: its looming shadow shutting out the light from his cell as he gazed, unseeing, towards the limpid blue of the sky.  He’d amused himself, in the first days of his captivity, with seeing how far his gaze might penetrate the city of London – those far-away people, heedless of his absorbing gaze, moving here and there – people tiny as ants going about their lives far below – but the novelty had soon worn off.  He’d sunk into the corner, gazing at the clouds without seeing, lost to time, lost to space, lost to this reality as he waited to learn what it might hold for him – doom or salvation.  He remembered, too, the moment they’d let him out.  The light he’d so missed had blinded him, then, glancing off his blue orbs with glaring beams till he’d cast out a hand to shade them.  Yet, there had come another glow, an unearthly glint of color and light, his eyes adjusting as it approached, burning like the sun against the crisp air.  His wife had smiled; his heart clenched.  It was not till he saw her face that he’d felt it all.

His smile was thoughtful.  “If I am to name the virtue I assign most to you, than it can be only one thing, my dear: it is hope.”  His fingers swept across her chin, the gentle structure of her face, and fell away again, unspoken and uncertain.  “Let cousins have love – your virtue is something far more powerful, in the end.”  He arched a brow.  “Well?  Have I guessed correctly, or have you selected a namesake from one of your other bountiful virtues?”

Col laughed, the corners of his lips sweeping upwards at her declaration.  “Then I shall do my utmost to endure between those moments when I may hold you.  But see you hold no one else so closely – I shall be watching, and I mean to be jealous of all your smiles tonight.”  His tone was teasing, and he gently ran two fingers across the gentle jut of her jawline, smiling into her eyes before dropping his hand to take the one she extended to him.  He kissed it gently and began to lead her towards the Great Hall, as requested.

“What else?” he inquired softly, glancing at her in the glowing candlelight.  “Loyalty.”  He tilted his head.  “Tell me, my lady, does it suit?”

They moved swiftly into the Hall, where they were presented as they were – Earl and Countess of Devon.  He wondered, without asking, if she ever resented that title, now: she had married him with the promise of someday becoming a Marchioness.  Did this rank suit her?

...

It was a time such as this in the brief seconds in between moments where memories were made. Helena as he spoke, memorized his face casting an indelible impression in her mind as he was and always would be to her. He was her world. For a woman who needed little from a man if at all with her education and skills - who had determined once she had no desire for children or marriage longed to be his wife in every way. She longed to give him children and to see his face on little ones running about the halls. As he spoke of hope that was hers, closing her eyes as his hand gently caressed her chin saying a silent prayer for her biggest hope to one day give him all he had previously desired. When he was taken from her, charged with crimes against the crown and dragged away they had barely been married more than a year. She had only just decided within the weeks before that she too wanted children, to live his dream of a whole gaggle of them to fill their days with endless wonder. Discussions had been made about this name or that name, how children would be raised and what sort of educations they desired them to have only for dreams to be dashed.

When he spoke of hope it was at the tip of her tongue to whisper affectionately after this entire ordeal that was what she would like to name their child if they were to have a girl. If they were to be truly intimate in that way and if she were to become pregnant Helena would've most firmly insisted upon it. Yet children and all sort of family planning had been delayed or rather it was not wholly talked about now both knowing without saying their children would be considered threats to the crown with the blood they would have. Helena would not voice it, never would she say it but it did break her heart ever so and it was not something she would discuss with her cousins. "How wise is my husband to know exactly what I have come as. He knows my heart and mind well - how green with envy other wives must be. You could've guessed any of them as my suspicion is you would've said all of them you flatter me so but Lady Hope for I could be nothing else. Loyalty does indeed suit you for you are the most loyal of men in every way which too I suppose also makes other married ladies jealous"

Helena Grey was a beautiful woman, a woman grown from a small girl that Elizabeth used to play with. But time had offered her beauty, and a husband by the visage of a Courtenay. When she had heard she had questioned the mentality of her father and his closest friend, the Duke of Suffolk. Though time may heal some wounds, the plot against her father and the reformation still stuck heavily in her mind. It seemed that the enemy loitered around each and every corner, coaxing the Princess of England to second guess almost anything - her paranoia often taking a hold of what some would consider her sanity. As Helen was announced, Elizabeth rose to her feet - arms outstretched, a practice made between friends who had been parted for far too long. Though Helena came from her paternal branch, Elizabeth offered Helena a friendship that was often disregarded for her Tudor cousins - only ever, truly, forging great bonds with her Boleyn familial relations. Perhaps Helena was the cause of envy, or perhaps Elizabeth simply wished to be more like her. Without the bow of her head, the Princess signalled for Helena to join her upon the velvet chairs, so they could sit before the roaring fire as the Autumnal chill took a hold of William Tudor’s lands. “Helena, what a joy. I’m glad you could join us! And what a surprise to see your husband raise his head, I thought he’d be far too conscious of what occurred this past year.” @helenaofdevon

𝖈𝖑𝖔𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖗 for @helenaofdevon

He did not have long to wait.  When Col was dressed for the pageant, he had walked out into the corridor outside the Courtenay rooms to await his countess.  He leaned against the wall, gazing blankly ahead.  His mind was a confused cocaphony being here.  He could imagine, almost, that nothing had happened, yet the chill of the wall behind him sunk into his back and a shudder ran through him as he thought of the cold of the Tower – the cold of the axe hovering, hovering.

Relief seeped through him, warming him, at the rustle of fabric.  He turned to spot his countess approaching, her pageant gowns flowing in luxurious folds around her, silhouetting her elegance against the backdrop of a thousand burning candles.

“And what,” began the Earl with a small smile.  “Has my lady wife come as?”

Taking quick strides towards her, he took her hand.  The pageant was in commemoration of one which many of them did not recall – but one which had, nonetheless, inextricably changed their lives, forever.  Silently, Col wondered what shifts this, its successor, might make.  He hoped they would be positive.  The King had been solicitous enough of his friendship, now that Col had returned to court, that he felt such hopes were not folly – but who could say what favor would last?  His father’s had not.

“It remains for me, only, to state the obvious,” he added.  “You are bewitching, my dear.  Now come, we must make our appearance and I must require a dance, if you will allow me.  I daresay, with such a partner upon my arm, I shall be the envy of court.”

...

She had taken her time yes as in love and war, battle and debate and the cauldron on intrigue that was court everything had to be approached with care. Rush and one could miss something and a lady though she may not wage war in the traditional manner often any social engagement was a cause to wear her battle armor. Lace and fine fabrics were delicate yes but her mail and breastplate, her wit coupled with charm her sword and shield. Helena Grey was a master of the field in this regard well versed in the subtler arts and what it took to navigate courtly life.

However, this evening felt distinctly different in preparation for it. It would be easy to go into the pageant and pretend nothing terrible had ever happened and that a period of time past was a nightmare she suffered once only to wake to something better. The world was watching now, begging for any hint of disloyalty or reason to doubt their allegiance. She dressed this evening yes  prepared to field the volley of suspicion. Helena allowed her ladies maids to dress her to dazzle and stun, to captivate and inspire and to armor her well for this grand social engagement. Let the world see her and that her allegiance stood with her cousin and her eyes alone were for her husband. After finishing touches, finally adjustments she exited her rooms, silhouette illuminated by candlelight. Eyes lifted and she gaze at her beloved greeting his smile with a loving one, a truly genuine smile reserved for him

"I hope my beloved you weren't kept waiting too long for me. A woman would have her husband guess as to what I've decided to come as. Which virtue would my lord  think his wife would be?" Extending her hand she had once imagined his hand wouldn't have been there to receive hers. It was not often anymore but when his hand took hers it served to pull her from heaven, ground her to solid earth and a feeling of security and stability still washed over her. Truthfully she didn't need him as she could survive well with her wit and wiles. Helena though wanted him, above all others she did truly love him. "Perhaps, Love. Would that be too obvious for her heart beats for him alone? She would wish to surround him in such a feeling as if she is clothed by it alone and would wish to inspire all other young lovers to feels as she does and the love of family she does hold dear. I wouldn't wish though to take it from a cousin who may have more right to being lady love."

A small blush colored her cheek, flattered by his comment more than happy to accept his admiration. She was not above bits of flattery and if Col so stated it her attire had indeed achieved Helena's desired impression "Let us make our appearances then so they may not be kept waiting much longer and left to wonder if I have stolen you away. You may have my first and last dance. Those in between you may have fierce competition for but no matter my partner I will wish it were you. What pray tell has my husband decide to attend as?"