aeternum vale

𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡    . . .    kismet   dudley    (    @kismctt    )    𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞    . . .    knot   garden   ,   hampton   court    .

the  paleness  of  his  flesh  glowed  with  the  last  vestiges  of  warmth  as  winter  frost  nipped  at  their  heels,  the  trimmed  hedges  of  knot  garden  providing  an  endless  labyrinth  in  which  he  was  the  hunter  and  she  was  the  elusive  white  fawn  ─  golden - haired  and  tanned,  he  was  helios  in  pursuit  of  selene,  moon - faced  and  shy  as  she  darted  through  the  rows  of  towering  greenery  to  escape  her  company  after  he  had  slipped  a  note  into  her  soft  hands  as  his  group  of  boisterous  young  lords  passed  her  circle  of  tittering  maidens,  exchanging  nods  and  smiles  and  gentle  teases  until  duty  had  called  them  back  to  their  respective  masters.  foolishly,  he  had  waited  for  her  dark  eyes,  so  compelling  in  their  depths,  to  peer  from  behind  a  potted  plant  yet  she  had  been  too  quick  for  him  to  catch  at  first  sight,  leading  him  further  into  the  knotted  design  of  the  gardens  until  they  came  to  the  bench  that  he  had  seen  her  weep  upon  some  eight  weeks  prior,  salty  tears  glistening  down  her  cheeks  as  he  had  intruded  on  her  privacy.  beauregard  had  not  meant  to  make  his  presence  known,  watching  in  admiration  from  afar  as  kismet  dudley  entered  court  holding  onto  the  skirts  of  the  princess  elizabeth.  he  had  been  content  in  writing  endless  letters  devoted  to  just  her  features  and  the  sound  that  her  laugh  made  in  the  hallways  of  hampton,  like  bell  chimes  in  the  wind,  never  to  be  sent  to  the  recipient  of  his  adoration  but  kept  in  the  drawers  of  his  desk,  multiplying  like  parchment  rabbits  but  he  had  been  compelled  to  approach  at  the  sight  of  her  distress,  falling  to  his  knees  and  begging  her  to  share  her  sorrows  with  him.

looking  back,  he  had  been  surprised  she  had  not  just  kicked  him  aside  for  his  sheer  impertinence  but  had  instead  shared  her  woes,  spilling  words  and  tears  into  his  offered  kerchief.  their  meetings  had  grown  more  frequent  following  that,  her  gaze  meeting  with  his  own  across  a  room  or  during  sunday  service,  and  soon  after,  she  had  dared  to  touch,  to  kiss,  to  pick  at  his  cheeks  and  lips  and  neck  until  he  was  squirming  in  his  seat,  a  servant  to  her  explorations  ─  beauregard  had  been  good,  patient,  serving  her  to  the  best  of  his  ability  with  his  fists  clenched  beside  his  thighs  until  she  entreated  him  to  touch  as  well.  even  then,  he  had  not  pressured  her  into  satisfying  his  desires,  going  at  her  pace  and  sending  her  off  first,  red  cheeks  and  swollen  lips,  while  he  took  himself  into  hand,  biting  down  whatever  she  deigned  to  leave  behind  (  be  it  a  glove  or  an  embroidered  kerchief  or  a  scarf  )  to  muffle  his  sounds  of  pleasure.

in   the   midst   of   her   ousting   from   elizabeth's   favor,   kismet   had   certainly   not   foreseen   the   arrival   of   an   admirer,   she   was   far   too   accustomed   to   remaining   in   the   shadows   -   any   other   suitor's   attention   was   fleeting.   older   men   who   sought   her   out   in   hopes   of   garnering   any   sense   of   duty   to   robert,   or   to   have   a   little   bird   in   elizabeth's   chambers   as   cecil   had   attempted   -   they   all   passed   like   the   summer   breeze,   leaving   her   restless   and   a   bit   more   tender   around   the   edges   of   her   heart.   even   william's   attention   upon   her   as   of   late   had   felt   like   a   passing   fancy,   as   if   he   needed   a   stirring   in   his   soul   for   his   writing,   and   kismet   remained   half   certain   that   he'd   be   gone   on   the   wind   once   it   was   completed   and   society   lauded   him   further.    beauregard   felt   different,   he'd   caught   her   in   a   moment   of   weakness,   with   ruddy   cheeks   and   a   snotty   nose   that   she   knew   was   far   from   the   visage   of   a   beautiful   woman   struck   by   a   bit   of   melancholy.   she   had   rather   given   the   illusion   of   a   petulant   child   that   was   weeping   over   something   rather   silly,   regardless,   he   had   thrown   himself   to   his   knees   before   her   and   pledged   to   listen   to   every   word   that   she   whispered   to   him.   he'd   remained   by   her   side   wiping   her   stained   cheeks   with   his   kerchief   till   she   was   laughing,   with   a   faint   half   smile   pointed   in   his   direction,   returning   her   to   her   chambers   with   his   kerchief   still   pressed   into   her   palm. 

when   morning   had   arrived,   kismet   had   not   been   expecting   the   little   notes   to   begin   pouring   in   from   beau,   inquiring   about   her   well   being   and   the   dreams   that   she   had   - they   had   all   been   full   of   him   with   his   sunkissed   curls   and   frighteningly   beautiful   eyes. the   passing   weeks   had   seemed   to   flown   by,   full   of   walks   in   the   gardens   and   long   discussions   on   dreams,   ambitions,   fears   and   desires.   when   they   parted   ways,   beau   did   not   demand   any   unsightly   things   from   her,   instead   always   a   token   of   her   favor,   her   affection   in   the   form   of   a   glove,   or   embroidered   hanky,   the   hairpin   from   her   own   locks   that   she   gently   tucked   into   his   own   blonde   strands.   he   endeared   himself   to   her   heart   seamlessly,   till   he   consumed   nearly   every   thought   of   hers,   and   she   found   her   days   no   longer   to   be   full   of   frequent   bouts   of   melancholy   but   rather   girlish   laughter   with   warm   smiles.   soon   enough,   kismet   had   dared   to   cross   the   boundary   that   laid   between   them,   pecks   of   his   flushed   cheeks   shifted   into   the   corner   of   his   grins   into   the   plump   press   of   his   lips.   walks   shifted   into   clandestine   chases   throughout   the   gardens,   her   heart   thudding   rapidly   against   her   ribcage   as   she   playfully   ran   from   him   until   the   grove   of   trees   and   bushes   hid   them   entirely   from   view.   only   then   did   kismet   allow   herself   to   fall   into   his   arms,   arms   tangling   behind   his   neck   as   he   lavished   her   with   compliments   and   kisses   alike. 

Greek Mythology Moodboards // Selene

"A girl of ancient Athens - a name, I have found attractive in my recent endeavours." In some cases, William was a lavish, generous man; a worshipper, ever ready with a votive offering. He busied his mind now in devising Kismet gifts, the most delicate; ones such as only a woman, or ardent man, could have imagined. He would fasten no bracelet on her ivory arm, however pretty such a trinket would be - his favour was to pledge his very honour, and to pay in affection. Under these circumstances, how could a man build acceptance of his sweet words as favourable symptoms of earnest affection? Kismet possessed an incapacity to be swayed by sordid considerations - he could not venture, to believe the transaction of sweetness advanced him a single step. "Kismet, you have changed! You would have never regarded me with such coarseness in years past; lest this be a development of your skills as a courtier, and a well-deployed tactic to seize the attentions of a man you desire. If this is your endeavour, I compliment you on your success." 

kismet wondered if his playful jests held any true merit, had she truly changed in the years since they last met? it certainly felt far from it as of late, still too quiet, too young, too naïve, too many things that others seemed to look down on her for. perhaps william spoke an ounce of truth, for she'd grown a bit more coarse in the past few months, a defensive layer that had formed without her ever noticing. it was a cruel thing to wear around the other man, when he had been nothing less of a kind man to her, a charming sugar coated tongue that had whispered teasing compliments till her face bled red and he laughed as if she was the most interesting game in the world to him at that moment. it had haunted her dreams for several months after she had returned home from court, giggling to herself as she replayed every word he had said, but like most affairs of her heart it had been fleeting - gone on the next spring breeze, doomed to unravel as no letter arrived calling upon her. " you seek to fool me with guilt, as if it is only i, who has grown in your absence. as if you do not boast the sheen and pride of a man of court, himself. william, i fear that next time we meet i shall not know you from the plump bird that adorns the table in the king's feasts," she teased with a grin. 

location: sexy late night library hang 

  When all was still in her majesty's dominion, when supper was over, and the noisy hours of recreation past;  when darkness had set in, and the quiet lamps of study were lit - when the clamorous bells of church were hushed, there William sat. Reading somewhat late, and feeling that the power to read was leaving him; for soliloquies from incessant minds were losing all sap and significance - gold was withering to leaves before his eyes. William was sorrowing over the loss of passion - til suddenly a quick tripping foot broke past the wooden door frame, and brought its owner, scuttling into the light. Kismet Dudley entreated him with her fairy-like symmetry; unlike the dark, acerbic and swarthy attributes of her brother Robert, her features were plump, sweet, and fair. She was a passionate thing; her face, ever the colour of a coquelicot. Last she had been but a child to William; Kismet had grown in harmony and consistency. In her timid yet earnest character, it could not be denied there was a most exquisite and alluring, fairy charm. 

what a fickle thing sleep had been as of late, mind running restlessly with little reprieve, her hand already ached from the arduous task of writing at length to her brother and wife. a self assigned task to inform them of the comings and goings of court in their brief absence, as well as whining childishly to amy about how she was envious that she was not able to travel with them. relieved of her duties till the sun rose once more, kismet found herself in the library, perhaps hoping that being surrounded by the novels would provide her wisdom by osmosis alone. her eyes caught on the sight on another lost soul, dark eyes that seemed to peer inside of her, as if she was laid bare beneath a gaze that spoke of fresh soil warmed beneath the rays. william had always been far too capable of unsettling kismet, not in the sense of un-comfortability, but as if he never believed any honeyed lies she spoke, the sense of knowing what laid behind her eyes despite the gentle quietness she carried. it'd been a few years since they last spoke, though kismet listened fondly to the kernels she overhead of his plays, yet she does not hasten herself to his side, for she remained uncertain if he'd grown too bright for her company. or perhaps he too sought out the comfort of silence, escaping for a moment from his own perilous mind. 

The season was turning cold, weeks dragging on, and Elisabeth could not help but feel unhappy. She had hoped that any dealings would be completed, and that she would be returned to France by now, but instead found herself remaining at the English court, which seemed upended in confusion. The princess, for her part, felt unnerved by the uncertainty which seemed to grip the courtiers. Some had vanished from her sight several days since, and there was no denying that she felt as though she were kept in the dark, something hidden from her.

The air was brisk and yet she felt compelled to walk the gardens, despite the waning life of its blooms, if only for some change in scenery. She had not anticipated to encounter anyone else, but found herself confronted with a noble lady who she recognized, after a few moments' pause, as one of the Princess Elizabeth's ladies whom she had met when invited to visit the royal chambers. "Lady Dudley, is it not?" Her tone was warm, a genuineness to it. "Forgive me, I expected the gardens to be well-abandoned. But even on a chilled day such as this, at least there is sun, so I suppose any opportunity to lay claim to it must be taken." She paused, unable to gauge if she had disturbed Kismet in the midst of something. "Would you like to join me as I walk? Or would you prefer to remain without company?"

the youngest dudley had been sent away yet again after helping the princess get ready in the morning, nothing but a cold shoulder as the other ladies tittered as kismet quickly left the rooms. her head ducked as she hesitated in the hallway, for there was no amy to comfort her nor a robin to distract her currently, both far away in dover. for a moment, kismet felt adrift in a sea of emotions that threatened to overwhelm and drown her beneath them, tears pricked incessantly at the corners of her eyes and she knew that she could not cry within this corridor. swiftly, kismet had headed for the gardens, as if the harsh wintery air may save her from further ridicule for being caught crying like a child. graciously, they were empty and she was able to sit herself on a bench, thick tears rolling down her cheeks as the woman quietly sobbed. 

With each day a marvel of challenges and societal graces, Elizabeth rarely found a private moment to thus enjoy with her inner circle of well-bred ladies. However, though one may have complained at this lack of solitude or isolation, Elizabeth had found it quite the breath of air needed to swallow the melancholy that had plagued her since the news of Lady Dudley’s quickening. So it did not help then, that she found herself more than often with either the lady who had brought her the intrigue in the first place or the assailant’s sister-in-law and by Elizabeth’s own reckoning, her love’s younger sister. For most of her career beneath the Princess and from within her prestigious household, Kismet Dudley had been offered and presented with luxuries and favouritism that the Princess could not give directly to the Earl himself. She was given leave whenever she wanted, or made to complete such tasks that heightened her name before other wanting courtiers. But with the fall from grace, Kismet had been pushed aside for one of the first times. 

So far, Elizabeth had deemed it necessary that Kismet was kept from her audience till the very first and last hours of the day — when not taking buckets of hot water to her linen lined bathtub or preparing the ointment that another pressed into her skin, Kismet was kept apart from her Royal Highness. This unfortunate turn of events would ripple onto her family, that was, if the distance was kept within renewal, and though some took it upon themselves to tread openly onto the past roles Kismet had once boasted off, some mentioned her in whispers. Why was it that Kismet Dudley had suddenly fallen so far? Had she not been, alongside Elizabeth’s childhood companion Meg Welles, but a favourite of her flock? 

it perplexed kismet, the sudden coldness in which elizabeth so often now regarded her with, a far cry from the glory of being one of the princess' favorites maids. gone were the little gifts and teasing reprieves duties, feeding from bess' palm as if she was her pet more than a young woman within her household. the dudley had spent countless hours awake in her bed, wracking her mind for any slight she may have taken against the princess unknowingly, that may have caused such a fall from her grace. her mother's voice was still thick in her ears, whispering that kismet was seemingly always doomed to fall, that she had been nothing more than a ewe in wolf's clothing, attempting to scale to heights that she did not belong to. amy's voice echoed the sentiment, a reminder that diamonds were always expected to fall, kismet's guilt arising in her throat till it made her sick that she may be the cause of her own family's undoing. such sentiment felt more present when amy and robin were called away to dover, leaving kismet alone in the princess' hampton court, alone with her thoughts as elizabeth had taken to sending her away for the entire day as of late, a mercy that felt more like punishment in the moment. the other ladies flocked like squawking birds to fill the vacancies that kismet left behind, turning their backs to her as if they had not weeks before been nipping at heels in hopes of stealing some of the sweet favor that the princess had bestowed upon kismet. 

yet, the youngest dudley had never been privy to her brother's quick temper or her sister's ability to hold her head high against any storm. instead, she had endured this cold breath of winter as she had endured her mother's wrath previously, with a faint smile and eyes that wept only in the solace of her rooms. kismet had always been a tender hearted sort of beast, with head ducked and obedient tongue that knew to not speak unless requested, remaining on the shadows of the room as she ghosted about her duties to the princess that were required this night. like a mouse, kismet froze momentarily at the presence of feline esque eyes that watched her as the rest of the ladies filed out of the room, a few casting cruel looks in kismet's wake, surely to gossip once the doors had shut. at the sharp command of her princess, kismet nodded and moved quickly to take her place behind elizabeth, a spot that she had not been allowed in for a few months now. there was no anger in which kismet regarded this task, gentle hands that worked swiftly to undo the princess' hair, as if she was her sister and kismet still adored her. which she suppose she did, for she longed to be elizabeth's beloved maid once more. the question is sharp, and it pierces kismet in the heart, but she does not let it show on her features. instead, a faint smile as she briefly regarded elizabeth in the looking glass.

Domenico Fetti - Sleeping Girl (1620-1622)

When he summons the Lady Dudley to his office, the late hour is entirely intentional. The afternoon sun and its accompanying beams of light filter through the window, casting the room in a warmer pallor than most might associate with that of a man like him. The door is shut behind her. The quill with which he's been doing very little over the last hour is placed aside, to be given further consideration once the conversation he intends to have with her has concluded. When he looks up, it's with a veil of warmth in the draw of his brow, his eyes, the pull of his mouth. An entirely put-upon show, just for her, intending to gentle her into where he needs her to be in order for this to work.

The act of selecting spies is not straightforward in nature in a place like this, where the walls writhe under the hot breath of gossip passed from its attendees' mouths. From the top of the tree to the very roots, the flesh of each apple that falls has a chance to spread sickly-sweet rumors. George has determined that every one in three pieces of chatter has enough merit to call for concern; to determine which of the three is most appropriate to attend to, the right hand with the best-equipped touch must be employed, without risking giving anything of importance up. Maids and younger ladies of the court, alongside servants desperate for even a scrap of something kind in their lives, he finds, are best for this purpose. At his age, he's discovered he can often intimidate them on account of the fact he might remind them of the foreboding shadow of their own fathers, and often all that's needed is a little praise, or a little push.

It's with this in mind that he approaches ⸻ with enough space between them to allow for the existence of warmth without necessitating any actual contact. His voice is gentle, almost cajoling, underwritten with a faint trace of what might be understood as genuine apology. "Lady Dudley; thank you for coming to see me with such short forewarning." She is the sister of Robert Dudley, and while he has little suspicion that the man would involve his own flesh and blood with the contrivances of what his other birds in his niece's household murmur of, George has been surprised before.

the request for her presence by the earl of wiltshire is a shock, one that struck a bit of fear within kismet's heart, scrambling to find reason that such a prestigious and important man may have called upon her. even knew of her as more than a passing mention in the mouth when speaking of her elder kin. every step towards his office was with a trembling foot, though kismet held her head high as she had been instructed to since girlhood. cowering and head bowing was meant for asking forgiveness, and she had yet to know of the transgressions she may be accused of. her mind sought to calm herself, certain in it's belief that if she was truly in trouble that robin would've came for her first, or had whispered a warning in her direction. it is with this loftish belief that kismet is able to join george in his office, with a passive face that spoke little of the rapid heartbeat that banged against her ribs. 

" please, my lord. it was little trouble to come at your call, though i must apologize for not hastening my steps so that i may have joined you sooner." head ducked in both submission and respect, well aware of her status beneath him. there's a faint smile on her lips, as if she recognized the bit of warmth that george simulated in this moment. her mind wondered if perhaps bess had promised her duties to him for an afternoon, a foolish notion that is disappeared quickly as he motioned for her to sit. kismet sat quickly, obedient as ever, as she gazed up at george. the way he seemed to loom over her, a giant compared to her small nature, reminded her of her father. the taste in the air lingered of a child scolded, her hands resting in her lap fidgeting slightly nervously. 

  "Clever girl; beautiful girl. What pledge of loyalty do you wish of me? That I shall not taste you, then tell you later, that I feel different? I will never look at your face, and feel different." In his eyes, she was a glacial prodigy; beautiful, proud, and pre-natural. Kismet was a little proud perhaps, with her naive delicacy and beauty; she squeezed the arm of which she had now obtained full possession - she coaxed and conjured 'til James was obliged to pause, and laugh. Throughout their time, she poured up him most fanciful changes on the theme of love - he was unusually perturbed by a sudden reflex to force bravado to champion veracity in its place. "Will you give me a thousand and one nights to craft my tales? I promise you, you shall not be in want of leisure or pleasure; I will fill your nights with the demonstration of my oral abilities, however you best see fit." His heart smote him - he was stirring up contents, but with a gentle and caring hand. James wished to do her what good he could; Kismet was not a child, whom one should not speak of the truths that exist - yet her goodness, her innocence, was alien to his whole life and views. 

the whispers of court had been unjust and unkind towards james cecil, for they were a far cry from the charmingly sweet man beside her that endeared her with every word that fell from his lips, the whimsical promises of a well loved life that she had dreamt of since she was but a tiny kit tucked against her mother's skirts. certainly this man was not a rake, with the tenderness that he regarded her with nor the curious awe that she had begun to imagine in his eyes as they stared back at her. " what else may i ask from you, my lord, than what any woman desires from a man? i wish for you to stand guard at the tomb of my benevolent heart that seeks to beat only for you, as i shall remain a steadfast shore for you to lay your anchor within   with a promise that i shall weather any storm to keep you afloat." kismet was not naïve enough to believe that james was without flaw or hardships, it was etched in the miniscule fissures of his fissures, the hints of a life burdened on dutiful shoulders. yet, she did not desire a love that was a puddle - still and tepid, she longed for one that mimicked a river, full of ebbs and flow and the reality of a passionate life. if james was an uncertain current then she would be the bend in the river to bear the rush of it, to reorient them along the path that was meant for them. " allow me to be your most devoted audience for each tale, rapt with a pure attention to hang upon each precious slip of your tongue, my dereworthy heart."

His delight surpassed description. James sought a view to contemplate her charms, and find out the secret of their influence. She possessed a genuine good heart not given to all men nor women; and by way of these combined advantages she believed kindly; she behaved well. He had never felt such strange and contradictory inwards emotions towards another person - desire and admiration, a desire to respect and make lurid remarks, shared his heart between them. "And yet I have found you immune to every plead I have made at your door - do you find pleasure in offering me a residency I may never take?" Kismet was a sensitive and loving woman; to hold her in his company or carry her in his warms was to him a treat. Smart, trim and pert, she eyed James with no fear or shyness then if he had merely been a portrait, instead of a living gentleman. "As we walk, allow me to serve your needs in full; I am a man who seeks to amend his wrongdoings, and the dedication of myself to your pleasure takes the upmost precedence." Her gaze penetrated deep, it subdued the heart, and sent a gush to the stomach.

" perhaps i seek to test your resolve, my lord. if i were to allow you residency in my heart and beside my hearth, the most sacred place a lady may offer. well then i must assure that you shall not leave as soon as the summer draws near, yes?" the words drip from her lips, full of amusement and a bit of gentle reprimand before she may stop herself from speaking. as if his presence and good nature embolden her in ways that she previously had not felt, her heart racing in her chest as a grin appears on her cheeks without her noticing. a slip in her demure act that she so easily had worn since the beginnings of her girlhood, a reveal of the jovial nature that she hid so as to not embarrass her kin on accident. her body shivered at his promise, unable to help herself from briefly imagining james truly indulging in her pleasure, the wicked thoughts that it created which flushed her features. " if you dedicate to my pleasure, then indulge me, my lord. will you recount the grandest of your tales for me? please?" she pleaded, resting her cheek against his arm as she gazed up at him with wide eyes. as if they were daringly closer to lovers which the level of comfort that she granted him as they walked, arms intertwined, steps easily matched with one another.