siren's song

“i must admit i’m not as well versed as you might be in the matter of kings and queen, for there are none where i am from.” italy is different than most places. there isn’t a sole ruler of the land, there is no man to dictate right and wrong in all cities of the peninsula. francesco thinks that to be a great deal. piero is grand duke of firenze, ludovico was of milan ( god knows who’ll take his place ), and so forth. the sense of independence is what keeps the peninsula thriving, at least from his point of view. there is no need to want to govern as largely as possible if you cannot manage a small city in the first place. that was the case with many kings and emperors. 

francesco smirks. he is the attention, there is nothing to be kept. “dear, i have no trouble keeping people interested, i will tell you that.”

the man doesn’t give off a mysterious aura, by any means, and still, his words come across as if he has something to hide. franci’s instinct isn’t to distance himself, au contraire, he earns to know more, even if only what the man wants him to know. “i would not be, sir. i would be delighted.” his voice is teasing, luring, even. 

“the right question would be what is it that an artist does not do,” his features are on point, confident bursting out from his words as well as appeal. “personally, i am more comfortable with paintings and sculptures, i will say.”

arrogant smiles are a dime a dozen in this place, so richard has been quick to find out. but francesco de medici’s smile is pleasant enough to pass off as boyish, largely in thanks to his pristine features and the youthfulness that still clings to it. it makes him appear less of a threat and more of a player, one who plucks strings in... various ways, come to think of it.

offhanded amusement wanders across his lips. “i do forget,” the male comments, sarcasm dripping with every pronounced word, “that not all the world has the privilege of being ruled only by ... families, is it not? dare i say, the differences between italy and the rest of the world might not be as striking as you think it to be?”

a smirk curls at the edge of his mouth as he takes in every nuisance of francesco’s face. he’s not blind to beautiful men, as unexpectedly difficult to find as they might be. the remark is teasing enough to, indeed, hold richard’s attention —for the moment, that is. “i am suddenly beginning to see your country’s obsession over their art scene. if everyone at home is like you, then italy must be a ravishing place indeed.”

an impish grin twitches at the corner of his mouth as his gaze falls on the painter again. “it would be remiss of me not to ask an artist when he’s standing right before me, so —what’s the worst piece you ever created, and how did you discard it?”

He claimed to be nobody important, and if that were so, Sebastião could not understand why he would be so flippant towards someone of such a status as he. It may be that he simply did not know - but if that were the case, how did he manage to be important enough to worm his way into the Swiss court? It made no sense. 

This left the prince with only two options. The first was that this newcomer was lying, and that he was far more important than he would have Sebastião believe. If that were the case, it was a foolish game, and to what end? There was nothing to be gained from pretending to be less than what you were, unless it was a show of humility. He supposed he could understand that, even if he thought privately that it was rather silly. 

The second option was far more nefarious. It could be, perhaps, that this man came from the court of those who schemed against Portugal, and sought to undermine them where they could. Two culprits swam to mind, both kingdoms that Portugal should call allies, but Sebastião was certain that was far from the case. England and Spain. He had long been discontented with the terms of the Spanish alliance, and had long been terrified of confrontation from his brother-in-law. As for England, the sinking of Portuguese ships was a wrong that sorely needed answering, even if The Holy Roman Empire’s alliance seemed determined to ignore it. 

“I doubt that your name is Nobody Important, my friend,” he said, doing his best to force his expression into something more amiable to hide his confusion and irritation. “In Portugal, you would call me sua alteza, which means Your Highness. I suppose whatever translation of this you like would be suitable,” he reasoned. “Now, pray tell, who may I be acquainted with?” 

richard studied the man: his bearings were easily understood and did not require a session on vanity. not quite as much of an open book as he had hoped, there was no denying that for all his faults and flaws, the prince still displayed a healthy amount of confusion and apprehension at the bold words of the older male. yet it did not seem like he’d met many commoners in his lifetime which left richard with a deep-running wish to cause mischief.

these nobles and their belief to be of superior birth: it was such folly. to think anyone would be appointed by a god to rule — was this blasphemy? judaism was so much more different than christianity in that sense and he refused to believe the circumstances of one’s birth outweighed their chances at life. after all, hadn’t his own father been a bastard?

at least richard had rightfully earned the title as king of jesters. but one look at the prince’s face and it was evident he would never come to understand this reasoning so he wouldn’t bother trying to explain it to him... or anyone else. belief was a fickle thing.

“you’re studying me rather blatantly, good man.” hands resting on his hips with a provocative smile lightening up richard’s features, he raised his arms to gesture around the space between them in a needlessly dramatic fashion. “i am thoroughly flattered, of that i assure you. it is rare to be observed so intensely. your wife surely enjoys being regarded that way.”

the remark was amusing, if not an entire misstep. what little he knew of portugal had come through the tales of the soldiers he’d talked to or the envoys he’d entertained at the behest of queen mary. as such, it was incredibly fascinating to meet one in person albeit it a stuck-up fanatic. “my name, sua alteza — ,” he grinned, as if he was proving a point before bowing down with a flourish, “ — is alejandro rafael y martínez de irujo. i am a pirate and i remain at your disposal.”

the sudden nearness of the man startled simeon; it rang too false and too familiar, as if they were dear friends exchanging jests. ( and his name in the other man’s mouth did not help matters. simeon so hated to be caught by surprise. ) he was getting a creeping suspicion that the man was his worst fear come alive: an entertainer of some sort, whether through profession or personality. either way, he was wholly unwelcome. 

“that would imply that russia was not celebrating my death.” simeon did not like that he did not understand where the man was leading him; he did not enjoy feeling like he was being led at all. it should not be too difficult to rid himself of the stranger, much like he might rid himself of a buzzing fly. with his expression unchanged, he continued, “i did have an awful reputation at home — killed too many unfunny men.” 

unable to be still or refrain from moving altogether lest his excitement would drive the other male away —and it would, in time, richard was no fool to believe otherwise — he balanced his weight on his heels and waited for the russian to respond with a wide, childish grin.

such stiffness! quite like a dead body. (ha, the irony.)

the whole sternness of his character would be admirable if richard didn’t find more joy in chipping away at simeon belskyi’s painfully annoying conduct. passing joys in life were so few and far between. the jester had to find them where he could.

“they do say that a life with no laughter is not a life at all.” nodding as though in agreement with the latter, he studied simeon’s features once more while rubbing his chin thoughtfully. did he resemble mother or father? the man was dull, both soul and mind. it would be thoroughly entertaining to see what use richard could make of this. his glee returned while he steepled his fingers. “i heard your father was quite the unfunny man as well.”

At the mention of Teresa’s negative attitude a bright red blush spread across her cheeks and down her neck. She usually didn’t speak without such candor, perhaps it was the sun or the fact this man was a complete stranger she allowed herself to speak so freely. “You’re right, I must apologize for my comment it was quite inappropriate.” Unlike many other nobles she knew, her apology was genuine. She never wanted to seem ungrateful for what she did have, but it was true her situation did make her quite angry. She craved agency and meaning her life, but her internal struggle did not excuse an inappropriate attitude. Especially not to a pleasant stranger. 

When he changed the conversation to the sun she smiled grateful for the topic change. “I imagine there is little choice. From my little understanding of agriculture I know it heavily depends on the sun. For many their lives likely revolve around the sun. I never understood the romance of the mood because of that. The sun gives us life, that seems far more romantic to me.” She was grateful for a private conversation that was different from her usual mundane discussions. 

“Oh I can only hope my ladies won’t be upset by it.” She said quickly biting her lip nervously at the thought of hurting her ladies feelings. They might get on her nerves sometimes but they were good people. “I’ll likely tell them I was confused and not realized it was still in my pocket and apologize for the mistake. I’ll let you know how they respond though, hopefully they won’t be upset. I will still make sure to tell you what happens though, after all you are protecting my secret it is the least I could do.” If there was one thing she feared, was ever upsetting anyone. Her mother used to tell her that her soul was too gentle for this world, and that with age she would harden up but she never did. “What is your name? So I can find you after I speak with my ladies.”

her actions and the way she carried herself only further confirmed richard’s suspicions: this was a young woman, most likely someone who had grown up sheltered from the roughness of life. for the most part, that was an easy realization to have though not one he was inclined to share with her for the time being. it was rare to meet such an untainted soul within foreign castle halls and though the court staff had been warm and welcoming, the same could not be said of the nobles lingering on these grounds.

her remark had his features splitting into a wide grin that spoke of his amusement. he had no care for games with someone whose candor was so refreshing. but that did not mean he felt the need to expose his own character to reassure her who was a mere stranger.

such was the way only a boy would think. he’d long outgrown such foolish notions.

“propriety buys you very little, miss. even less when it comes to life so i implore you never to apologize. you make a good point, so it’s best to stick with it.” it wasn’t meant to come across as advice though richard’s smile didn’t falter when he noticed the fatherly hint to it. one day, his son and daughter would be told of the same. it would do no harm to offer the same insight into the human heart to a young woman who seemingly needed it.

“your question implies i am thinking — ” of nobles, he wanted to add, but found the structure of the sentence quite entertaining without that unnecessary little detail. he tilted his head, leaning lower to capture a bypasser’s fleeting attention before fixating his twinkling eyes on his surroundings once more. there was little to stun him, and neither snub nor flattery held any meaning to it. richard’s signature grin settled on his features, forming a wrinkle on his sun-chapped complexion. “ — which i absolutely am not.”

CLOSED;; Richard and Christine @inconnuis·

𝐒𝐇𝐄 had been informed by the nursery maids that her children had made friends with some other children at court, and with Christine’s consent, they had arranged for a little meeting in the gardens after everyone had their luncheon to play. Curious to see which children had been able to get her son out of his shell, Christine dismissed her nursery maid preferring to accompany her children herself since she had the time to do so, and wanted to soak up any spare moment she had with them. 

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 they arrived in the gardens, another similar group had assembled- the father of a boy and a girl, who looked right around the age of her own two. She recognized him from court introductions earlier on, wherein some of the ladies had mentioned who he was, so she smiled and curtsied as soon as she arrived close enough, “It seems we had a similar idea to see to it that this meeting came to light and exceeded expectations.” she said, shifting her attention between the man and the sweet way their children were waving at each other clearly eager to play. “We haven’t been introduced monsieur, I am Lady Christine d’Artois, and these are my two children Leon and Amelie Chevalier – they’ve spoken of nothing but how much fun they’ve had with your children, I couldn’t resist being present for this meeting,” she admitted, hands by her waist as her blue eyes turned to meet his. 

if his own apprehension wasn’t so damned infuriating, then perhaps richard would have found joy in his children making friends with admirable ease. certainly, there was no denying for little people of their age to be used as bargaining chips for that was what happened to princes and princesses all across the globe but richard cherished his children. they, in many ways, kept the memory of their mother alive in his own heart.

fickle as it was, however, he was not inclined to forgive them this slight. mary had a penchant for escaping her governess’ grasp and robert was quick to set out to follow her example, much to the grief of their father who simply could not abide this. while he didn’t consider himself to be in a precarious situation yet, no goodwill of his queens could bring back either of his children if they were to disappear under mysterious circumstances.

he wouldn’t put it past any of these people. richard trusted nobody and it was good that way. although his smile and the way he bowed to a woman who was obviously of noble birth did not betray his distaste for the situation which had brought them together, his mind was furiously at work. if mary and robert were not interested to follow their father’s rules, he would have to make them understand some other way. would a scary tale do the trick?

“pleased to meet you, milady. i am afraid i have not yet been informed of our children’s budding friendship. where, pray tell, have they met? i am afraid the governess i employ is quite desperate to  tame my daughter. she’s a handful, you see.”

it wasn’t true for mary was but a wisp of a wind — but lady d’artois did not have to know that.

“and i am happy to be one for you, you know this,” he returned, meaning the words. “if you visit once, i promise you will never want to leave. you will fall in love with the jesters in our court, just as they will fall in love with you — well, one may attempt to kill you, but such is life in the palace.” he couldn’t hide the grin that accompanied the words. the jesters he knew were of such different style than richard; the change was wonderful. “how long do you intend to stay in switzerland? as soon as you leave, i will need to have an excuse prepared so that i do not have to suffer the dullness for long.” 

the laughter lines around the older man’s eyes were highlighted as his head dipped back, boisterous laughter falling from his parted lips before richard pretended to wipe a faux tear of amusement from the corner of his eye. “aren’t you a charmer! in this case, i’m quite taken with your country already. truly reminds me of home!” clapping the other on the back appreciatively, he whistled a melody while faux-pondering the question. “i could not bear the thought of departing from these most esteemed courts. alas, i fear my daughter would not forgive me if i were to remove her from your influence. i will have you know she thinks highly of your tales so you best prepare to assume full responsibility of her!”

he waved his right hand in the air in a show of feigned disinterest with a wide grin implying the exact opposite. richard was nothing, if not a controversial figure and he quite enjoyed allowing people to believe whatever suited them the most.

he leaned closer before pushing his chest out, wiggling his shoulders in a makeshift attempt at imitating one of the soldiers he’d seen pass through the courtyard earlier that day. “wouldn’t you believe i have more the physique for a soldier? i would so love to be one!”

his demeanour shifted, blurred immediately before he cocked his eyebrow and transformed into yet another. one hand came up to stroke his chin thoughtfully while his brows knitted together, the lines around his mouth hardening accordingly as his voice deepened. “or what of a philosopher? someone who questions the integrity of the church?“

bursting into hearty laughter, all traces of his farce were gone in an instant. "if you genuinely believe i’ve a care for politics, you should absolutely come and join me at court! it would be so much funnier with two jesters around, wouldn’t you say?”

mary  ignored  richard’s  protests.  her  eyes  were  calm,  but  her  grip  did  not  falter  until  the  bedroom  door  was  shut  fast  on  them  both.

the  room  was  a  modest  affair.  a  single  bed,  made  neatly,  and  a  simple  chest  of  drawers  with  a  looking  glass.  no  pictures.  “we  will  make  it  the  english  way,  with  peeled  barley.”  she  crossed  over  to  the  chest  and,  producing  a  key  from  her  sleeve,  pulled  open  the  bottom  drawer.  the  contents  could  not  be  seen,  but  a  thick  floral  smell  enveloped  the  room  and,  when  mary  rose,  three  ribboned  pouches  came  with  her.  “back  home,  i  used  to  brew  the  tisana  in  my  room,  and  let  it  stand.  it  is  better  thus.  the  best  night-cap  in  the  world.”  she  smiled,  so  determined  to  fill  the  quiet  that  she  did  not  notice  her  blunder  :  she  had  called  england  home.

“oh,  look,”  mary’s  eyes  widened.  it  was  a  surprisingly  child-like  sight,  and  rare.  “i  have  been  a  terrible  host,  leaving  you  standing  at  the  door.  we  have  no  chairs  but,  perhaps,”  she  grimaced  at  the  bed.  “we  could  put  the  cushions  on  the  floor?”

richard had not lived this long without coming to understand the discerning personalities of women and men alike. mary was steadfast in her actions and unwilling to let her focus be dispersed even through the means of a joke so he relented, giving into her guidance and accepting whatever she had in store. if such was his role, he’d play it with bravado.

his nose scrunched up. the scent wafting through the air of mary’s bedroom was familiar though not one he was overly fond of. “if you wanted me all to yourself, you could have just asked.” the quip was spoken dryly while he watched her movements with interest, lips tightening into a frown as he failed to understand what she was doing.

She had not meant to harm the poor girl, as her eyes looked to her wide and apologetic. It was her fault, just one of many - but by look alone he did not seem noble, so at least, such fault would not be put upon Hindustan’s grand head. So, she smiled, a hand adjusting her shroud that rested gently upon the top of her head. It was perhaps, unwise, to allow the tumble of raven locks to remain free under a stranger’s gaze - but she continued to tease it. With the soft hum from behind ivories, Gulbadan pressed a gentle hand upon the girl’s arm. A sweet thing, as small as a cherub, the consort smiled. 

But their countries were so different, miles and miles were put between the two strangers that resulted in foreign tongues and broken words. She did not know that he was Polish, and even so, she did not know the language. Yet, she offered a sympathetic look, full of open and widened arms before pressing her lips together in a puckered display. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, stringing together the basic words she knew off French rather than any other ( she doubted, after all, that he had much knowledge in terms of Eastern languages ). 

“I did not mean to harm the little lady,” she continued, a hand gently taking the smaller one that belonged to the man’s daughter - intimacy a whisper between the female kind before she stepped backwards. Her daughters, coated in the colours of Hindustan, were busy dancing and singing in the freshly grown display of grass. They were still too young to understand the importance of their visit - too young to remain still and graceful, like swans on the waterbed. 

She may have found his language broken and ugly, but she tried to decipher. An introduction must’ve been met, as she heard the name. Richard and Mary, sweethearts from Poland’s hearth, perhaps? Her lips purse as she folds her arms across her chest, holding her folds of colour against her skin as she left her girls to their joy and childish entertainment. “I am… Gulbadan Devi Sultan Begum, of Hindustan… Over there are my daughters, the oldest is Nura, the smaller one is Ruqayyah, perhaps they could play together? Girls get on well when apart from the court…” Slowly, her eyes draw from the man, a blush apparent as she stares ahead, almost anxious for his gaze - as if she yearned for it. “They are nice girls, Raqayyah is loud but… she is only loud in volume.” 

mary shifted in her father’s grip, apparently uncomfortable with the way she was being held. richard hadn’t noticed his hold on her subconsciously tightening but loosened it accordingly when she poked his cheek accusingly, settling for a crooked grin to silently communicate his apology. judging from the wide eyes and the quiet gasp of breath, it wasn’t difficult to see mary’s genuine amazement at the other woman.

richard understood: upon first glance, the stranger seemed to radiate a quiet kind of warmth, something most commonly associated with mothers. as mary had none —it stung him to even think of it — her bewilderment made sense to him but he refrained from commenting on it. some things he had no right to and he understood that.

his french was arguably as broken as hers and richard had trouble understanding her words through the thickness of her unfamiliar accent. suppressing a frown at the idea of conversing in a language which was not his own as most he’d met thus far seemed comfortable speaking to him in his mother tongue, he bit down on his lower lip while constructing a worthwhile response in his mind. at least he had picked up on enough french at english court to be able to retain a basic conversation. “i don’t think she minds.”

which was true. from the looks of it, mary’s sincere interest had been piqued.

in the back of his mind, he wondered if his son was still busy swinging around his sword. sending a quiet prayer up to heaven, he hoped that robert would be smart enough not to rope in this woman’s children in his shenanigans for fear of picking a fight he was likely to lose. this woman was, after all, no ordinary commoner as richard offered an incline of his head before focusing his attention on his daughter again, finding that gulbadan’s question was meant for her rather than him. “would you like to play with them, mary?”

unusually shy at the idea of it, he had to fight off a grin. it was seldom to see his daughter baffled into silence in such a neat manner and he thought it hilarious but when an eager nod of her head followed, he thought it best to wordlessly place her on her feet and watch her happily scurrying after the older girls. “she’s a little clumsy. i’m afraid she won’t be much fun for your daughters to interact with.”

Francesco is an admirer of many things. Amongst his favorite are architecture and men. He is delighted to find one lead to another in such unexpected ways. As the stranger joins by his side, he intently scans his features as he examines the arches. Delicate and strong features alike - there aren’t many men out there who possess the perfect balance of them. 

“I would not say a supporter, perhaps more of a…,” Francesco trails off, looking for the perfect word. That’s the thing about him, he would rather remain silent than say the wrong thing. “A lover is to put it too simply, but a supporter… would that not imply I put money into the craft? I do not,” he leaves the question somewhat unanswered. He supposes the man isn’t the most interested in the details of Francesco’s relation with architecture. If he is, they could find a more comfortable place to discuss it. 

“Is the fact that I have gotten you interested in the first place already an accomplishment, however small?” He debates, playfully snarky as usual, perhaps flirtatious in small amount (for now). He laughs at the other’s words. It is rare for one speak in such a way of themselves, but Francesco enjoys the man’s honesty. At least he appears to be honest, if only partially. He’s tempted to say he’s the stuff of his most ungodly dream, but that might too forward for a first meet. He’s not sure who that is, and he would not want to express himself as, well, a slut. “How does one get on your good side then, sir?” He settles for a gentler approach. 

it was unusual to be subjected to such intense scrutinizing. not even at court, when he stood in front of hundreds of nobles, did he find the same attention that this young artist bestowed so easily. it was difficult for richard to be bereft of speech but this time around, the older man found himself slightly startled: a feat which was not easily managed.

“you can support in silence. is that not what our good kings and queens do?” his voice dripped with thinly-veiled irony as he continued to keep his gaze fixated on the arches. richard’s brows furrowed before returning his attention to the younger male as he spoke, the ghost of something unreadable flickering across his features, “ — witty, aren’t you? i’ll give you that. but it’s easy to attract attention.” he grinned again before gesturing towards the arches once more, as if to prove a point. “... but more difficult to keep it, no?”

the question was a good one even if richard couldn’t say for sure if it was entirely warranted. he’d spoken with no care and now found himself pondering how to keep the lightheartedness of the conversation going without complicating matters. “your words imply there is a good side of mine. how disappointed would you be if i were to say there’s none?”

uncrossing his arms, he allowed the grin to fade into something more serious though it was soon replaced by his usual, charming demeanour. “so what exactly does an artist do?”

“they  are  admirable  children.”  mary  said.

her  mind  had  followed  richard’s,  though  she  did  not  know  it.  for  a  moment  it  had  felt  as  though  alice  was  there  in  the  corridor  with  them,  real  enough  to  reach  down  and  tug  boris’  ear.  for  a  moment  mary  had  felt  nothing  but  fear.

unlike  richard,  she  was  glad  alice  was  not  here  (  though  she  loathed  herself  for  it.  )  leaving  england,  switching  sides,  mary  did  not  know  if  she  could  have  done  it  in  the  presence  of  her  friend.  would  alice  approve  of  who  she  had  become?

shaken,  mary  forced  the  life  back  into  herself.  “not  sleeping?”  she  took  richard  by  the  arm,  suddenly  animated.  “you  should  have  told  me.  come  along,”  she  led  him  down  the  passage,  boris  hot  on  their  heels,  towards  her  room.  “i  have  just  the  brew  for  that.”

the movements of his fingers slowed before pausing altogether as his hand lingered in the air before completely withdrawing to his side. mary wore her mask of stoicism with bravadao but the flicker of something didn’t escape his trained eye. no need to bring it up, he figured. she would have her reasons for her curt mannerisms and for the first time since stepping foot in this place, richard found he did not wish to know more.

Her nose unintentionally scrunched up at the thought of her marriage like a child who’s just seen something disgusting. Teresa loved the idea of marriage and she has always dreamed of marrying someone she loves, but she doesn’t believe that will likely ever happen. She is destined to love those who will not love her back, and her marriage will ship her off somewhere far away to strengthen Spain. “No, I’m not married. I don’t think it will be long though until I am promised to someone.” Her one bright smile had quickly turned to a tight one she used when needing to be pleasant on a topic she didn’t like.

When he turned the conversation back to the sun her tight smile turned slowly back to her normal bright one, her face unable to hide her emotions. “I never understood why so many others hate the sun, though perhaps I am just a child of Spain. Spanish summers are more beautiful than any other.” When he asked about her ladies she couldn’t help but laugh and glanced around to make sure none had found her yet. “I told them I had lost my favorite ring and promised the one who found it to tell them the identity of the my first love.” She said as she pulled the ring out of the pocket she had tucked it in. “They love gossip and I was sure it would keep the occupied. And if they couldn’t find it they would spend the rest of the time debating who it was.” 

She tuck the ring back into her pocket and looked up towards the sun enjoying the warmth on her face and smiled. “I don’t like playing tricks like that, I’m not really that good at them… hopefully you won’t tell them about my little trick? I do enjoy their company most of the time. Everyone needs a break from each other every once and a while though.”

as she spoke, he listened in patience to allow the stranger to fully express her thoughts. it was true that marriage usually put the women at risk but such was the destiny of nobility; beyond that, richard couldn’t claim to know more. “well, don’t you have a chipper attitude.”

he couldn’t fault her for that, could he? richard was no noble and for the most part, free to do as he pleased. perhaps therein lay the injustice she pondered but could not quite grasp just yet. glancing at her one more time before closing his open eye with a sigh again, he relented. this was no place to have such a gloomy conversation and he no person to carry it on for longer than absolutely necessary. “it’s just the nobles who do, i am certain. common people are quite content to bask in the sun, i think. either way, most have no choice.”

he would have to remember this spot: it was tucked away safely, kept from prying eyes. something a man of his caliber could appreciate for the serenity and security it offered.

One of the first things she noticed was his nice smile, unlike a lot of the men at court it seemed genuine. She appreciated genuine people of all kind, after all it seemed they were the rarest kind in the world. 

At his comment about tiresome husbands she couldn’t help but laugh. It was slightly bitter though and she sighed. ‘Perhaps it is, and I can enjoy gossip but now it has become more of a reminder of my inevitable fate.” She confided in the man. Perhaps it was irresponsible but it was nice to admit it to someone. 

She watched as the man closed his eyes and seemed to relax for a moment. She quickly glanced away though giving him a moment of privacy. No one can relax while being watched after all. “I am not someone who seeks out being alone usually. I don’t really like it to be completely honest. But there is nothing better then getting to sit in the sun.” The other ladies avoided the sun like the plague she noticed, wanting to keep the pale perfect skin but she had been blessed with fair skin that never seemed to tan. So a little sunshine never hurt, while at least if it wasn’t for too long.

her smile was genuine: a man of his age would be able to tell. it reminded him of his daughter’s whenever she was given a new toy to play with or when robert would spin her around for too long: dizzy with true, unabashed joy. this woman’s smile lacked the same intensity but he figured that if she were truly ecstatic, her smile could easily rival the sun.

“so you’re not yet married.” she handed out information far too easily for his taste: not every person came with no bad intentions and was willing to humour her for the sake of propriety. perhaps that was where her innocent nature came from: a lack of experience. however, he didn’t waste another moment on the thought and simply chose to smile at her.

The arches in Bellinzona are an architectural wonder, and Francesco can’t help but inspect them in awe whenever he passes by. Sometimes, I must admit, he leaves Castelgrande just to gaze at their every detail. They are seamless, very well made indeed, almost as well made as Firenze arches. He is caught by surprise when he spoken to. 

He nods, in agreement. He is always looking fancy, there is no novelty to that statement. Francesco puts effort into presenting himself properly, despite not being shy nor humble when admitting he does look his best with no clothing what so ever. 

The man’s features scream Mediterranean, but Franci is unable to pinpoint exactly where. He could guess Spain if he had to, given the his beautiful dark mane and tan skin. He could be wrong - he has been, many times before. 

“I am young, yes, and I will take it as a compliment, sir. To be young and yet so accomplished, is it not great?” He takes few steps towards the stranger. He is charming, in his own way, and alluring, regardless of his intentions. “And you, sir? You are…?”

admiration gleaming in another’s eyes was easy for richard to spot and this man seemingly had rapture in abundance which was quite a breath of fresh air in this place. and surely, there was beauty to be found within these castle walls: that he could not deny. but the simpleness of one man observing his surroundings had his grin widen considerably. it seemed only few cared to do so thus the younger immediately had the jester’s full attention.

pushing himself off the wall, richard moved to stand next to francesco before raising his head to see what he’d previously admired so intently, arms loosely crossed in front of his chest. “so am i right to assume you’re just an avid supporter of architecture, or...?”

he whistled, amusement crinkling his eyes at the other’s words. only an overconfindent italian could ever speak in such a way! it was solely for that reason richard decided he liked the younger’s feisty attitude. “who said anything about accomplishments? maybe i simply wanted to see what all the fuss was about,” he sniggered before withdrawing his gaze from the arches to focus on the artist next to him again. “i am the stuff of a noble’s nightmares. unless you get on my good side, that is.” the words were accompanied by a teasing wink before he focused on the arches once more with curiosity splattered across his features.