out of the woodwork

.

He could feel his throat tighten just by the sight of her. He’d promised to do right by her to Lorenzo, to do better than just visit occasionally. After all she’d been the one to not only bear him a son but be so beautiful when he, most of the time, wasn’t at all right and just. “Thank you, your assistance isn’t needed,” the count turned around slightly to face the servant who quickly left the room. “No chaperone today, but I promise to behave.” in fact, Cesare kept his distance, for now, at least. He’d hoped to speak with her in private, however, their surroundings made it almost impossible for him to not be paranoid and expect the worst. The French certainly had their ways of filtering out information, even about a woman who had absolutely no interest in meddling with them anymore.

The count sat down in front of Caterina, bent forward and softly reached out towards her. “Moment of grandeur,” he replied with a sarcastic tone to his voice. Unless Caterina, Cesare wasn’t interested in keeping quiet - had he just challenged the prince himself to make right by his beloved. “Don’t worry, my love. I’ve challenged the beast head-on. Don’t–” he added, “don’t scold me for doing what needs to be done,” Cesare grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles. Chaste, nothing that might alarm a chaperone - hopfully, possibly. Clearing his throat the count looked up towards his beloved and smirked. “Relax. I’ve not come to force you into a position you’re not ready for. I see how you’re thriving. My company would only damage everything. While I’m a good match I do see myself being far too rugged and domineering to even be worthy of you. But,” he tried to find the right words, “I shall use my strength to work towards our common goal, if you let me, my lady. Nothing would make me happier than to call you mine.”

a rueful smile was brought to caterina’s face at the dismissal of the page, brown hues rolling slightly as she spoke her next words in quiet jest, “all the world over knows we share a child. what, do they think giulio was brought in through my window in milan by a stork?” it was nonsense, of course, but their transgressions and beholdence to the pope necessitated at least the image of sanctity, thus a chaperone was usually not far. 

my love. the words twisted in her mouth, bringing the taste of bile to the back of her throat. who was she to resist the advances of cesare, a match that would’ve delighted her as a girl? why did every cell in her body push him away, even while the world pushed them closer and closer together? it was the thought of marriage that had ruined him, taken him from a comforting dalliance to someone she was forced to have occupy serious thoughts of her future. it was a sinful thing, to reject something she knew could make her happy, but for all her considerable courage the thought of entering the foreboding institution of marriage again scared her beyond belief.  

“you— you’ve what?’ she asked, snapping out of her quiet reverie to probe him for answers, brow knotting together in worry of what her hot-headed lover may have done. “please tell me you’ve not done anything rash mi signorie.” allowing his lips to brush her knuckles, caterina’s fingers tightened around his hand, holding him for just a moment longer before letting go like she’d been shocked by the electric sparks that sometimes danced between them. “your company damages nothing.” she said, posture relaxing a bit as she heard his words, her softer, more empathetic side wishing she had an explanation for him. “do not take me for a fool, for I know what duty binds us. but it is by no fault of your own that we aren’t already wed.” she paused, heartbeat picking up as she attempted to wrangle words from her nervous tongue. loss had marked caterina, leaving her heart a hopeless squire, content to watch others ride off into war as she’d resigned herself to a life of a spinster, but then filled it back up with the love of another— the medici bank. “I suppose I do not feel worthy of a great love anymore.” she mused quietly, to herself, only realizing she’d said it aloud when cesare reacted.

x

   “You flatter me with such a glowing recommendation – I know business to be our most pressing avenue of friendship, but I know myself to be my mothers child; so oft, turned to reflection and domestic talk.” She revealed all in a frank fashion, which knew not the shame of secretiveness; Caterina looked on as she spoke with a kind, earnest air, parceling thoughts to be eagerly digested. “The French are indeed, alighted by an unrivalled honour - one of many recent glories, is it not? It seems al the world, is aslant in a profitable light.” Privately, Hisham ascribed the feverish toiling of the Medici, as assiduous demonstrations of business acumen - an assertion, tied to only favourable opinions. “You parcel the sentiment well, that the successes of ones neighbour is not a slight against ones own potential for heights, but rather, fodder for mutual success - the mere collection of once more, the grandest courts, is profitable on principle. I agree with you further; on the topic of our own conversation, I believe our acquaintance, lacking from previous endeavours. Lisbon was a hurried affair, was it not? I shall take Paris, at a leisurely pace, dedicating my time without distraction.” 

    Perceiving the point of business, to which Hisham’s attention was drawn, she entreated him in a careful, dignified tone, dropping concerning it, definite observations. “Certain Cordoban assets? I beg thee, to continue further on this vein – it intrigues me, to know which of our commodities, best catch your interests. I display a deep, personal bias, in asserting I believe our assets numerous and varying in mediums – and a deeper, more selfish appraisal, that my children, lay chief amidst these treasures.”   

when speaking about the glories of the french, caterina elected to keep her lips tightly sealed, lest something improper spill out in front of the emir himself. though she was quickly growing and thriving in this more political field, her prowess in the arena came from a true love of connecting with people, not the love of the game itself. it was this that could be both a strength and a weakness — strength in the way of the genuine words that seemed to pour directly from her heart to her lips, and weakness in that same instance for a woman disinclined to speak in entendres and whispers. “ah, the emir alludes to what he already knows, that the lisbon summit and this very gathering  have made florence’s neighbors stronger, and in turn have reaped good fortune upon our hands.” though their dealings with certain parties had been done in a much more furtive manner, most of the medici siblings’ affairs had been done for all to see, as if to say, ‘this is what the medici bank can do for you too’. “and I apologize for my presumptive manner, but the well being of cordoba’s neighbors have certainly brought the fodder to cordoba as well. we’ve been seeing increased trade in the iberian peninsula as well as across the mediterranean, to say nothing of the extensive mines I’m sure exist in your territories, and the beautiful textiles that have been permeating their way northwards.” though the cordobans were famously foreign, caterina had done her due diligence to the best of her ability, and if there was one thing the medici were good at, it was tracing the money. 

Open to: Everyone Location: Cordeliers Convent Feast

Oh these feasts seemed to kill a little piece of Eivor every time he attended them. Stuffy men and woman seated all around their perfectly long tables, eating their perfect food with their flawless silverware. Proper chatter filled the air along with the soft, soothing, sounds of the lute. It was disgustingly sweet. The only saving grace of the night was the French wine but even that was a light affair when compared to the mead he and his family brewed on there farm back in the day. The feasts they had- Now that was a real celebration. Drinking, singing, shouting and so much dancing. They would eat with there hands. The same hands that hunted whatever they were feasting on. The nights would stretch on and no. Sometimes those days felt too far away to be real and on nights like tonight, Eivor could not help but long for them again. Though he was fairly sure that most of the men and woman here would piss themselves with fear should any part of his old world sneak into their lives. 

With that in mind, Eivor kept himself on his best behaviour. Which is to say he did his best to enjoy the food and drink. Avoiding conversation was best but he couldn’t always manage that. He was known for his skill in warfare. Not that he’d been able to flex those muscles recently but his name still cared some weight with those who had been paying attention to battles of the recent past. Some wanted to pick his mind about just that. Those were just about the only conversations Eivor could manage to get through without offending someone some how. 

He’d just managed to squirm himself away from another bloated diplomat. Taking his wine goblet with him, Eivor made a break for the door. However, his alcohol idled mind was not working as well as it might over wise have been. As he walked briskly towards the exit, he missed someone walking right in front of them. Eivor ran into their back and his wine goblet tumbled down to the floor with a rather loud clang. Dropping his hands at his side, Eivor let out a long sigh. “Pitty.” He grunted under his breath. “That was a horribly good drink.” He added before glancing at the ceiling of the building they all ate under. “Odin save me.”

caterina felt so out of place here. nearly two weeks now she’d been in the french capital, her former home, and those two weeks had made it abundantly clear that these were not the same feet that had once roamed these halls, not the same eyes that had marvelled at the grandeur of the palace. she saw it for what it was now: a gilded pile of excretion, a pit of venomous vipers. in a way, the knowledge had set her free. not only that, but her work here in the place that’d always be regarded as purgatory by her had set her free. no longer were the chains of what could have been shackling her to the ground, holding her back like a black rot on her lungs that made it hard to breath. if lisbon had been a rebirth, paris was a coming of age, into the new life and body caterina had crafted for herself. and with the work came distraction, then only brief moments of sadness, and now a strange sense of looking into the past. she didn’t belong here, not really. maybe the younger version of herself did, but the new version of caterina could thrive perfectly without paris, legs rooted to the ground and arms blooming towards the sky, hair braided into flowers like a great big tree, some rings smaller because of drought but new ones flourishing and thickening with bountiful splendor. 

so she felt out of place in the hall, but that was better than feeling like the ghost that had haunted the halls in the two weeks past, too wrapped up in memories and misgivings to take in the spectacle. it was a miraculous thing, to see a woman rebuild, and as caterina looked out over the crowd she could feel the last brick settling into place, mortar thickening into stone of the wall that the prince of france had once crumbled. it was this inner soliloquy that she was lost in as a large, brutish man crossed her path, causing them to collide and caterina to abruptly come back to the moment. “mamma mia!” it was a phrase said out of pure surprise as caterina stepped back, saving the hems of her dress from the ruby red liquid that had splashed across the floor. “mio signore my deepest apologies. when I was a girl I would get in trouble for getting lost in my daydreams, I see I have not actually lost that habit despite the chiding of my mother.” waving over a page, caterina gestured to the mess, speaking in quick french to explain the mess and send him away for some cleaning supplies. “I do hope it did not get on any of your clothes monsieur. if it has, I must insist that I pay for new threads.” stilling herself from the disconcerting situation, caterina finally looked at the man she’d bumped into, instantly struck by how unfamiliar he looked. not that she knew ever noble that attended the festivities, but she’d known most of the nobles of europe since birth, and had put in the hard work to study the others portraits before lisbon. this was a man separate from all of that, exuding an air of roguishness not usually present at such occasions. “I must apologize again, because I do not believe I know your name.”

          Festivity was the last thing on the Duke’s mind in that moment. Much like how he had cut back his hair, he felt his heart had been cut from him. Watching the smiles and celebration of those dancing and jesting together made it all the more obvious they had what he had longed for. Like a ghost he haunted the corners of the hall, watching passively yet not allowing himself to be brought into the fray. Heartache too keen to even allow himself to pretend in that moment to find joy, instead enjoying the cup of wine that had been offered to him, clinging to it like a rope that had been tossed from a ship as he was swept away in the waves. Peering about, seeing if he could find any glimpse of familiarity (as it seemed the French enjoyed invited everyone to the party), Nikita managed to land his dark eyes on Caterina. A brief introduction in Lisbon had been cause for further curiosity on the Duke’s part, and he offered her a smile as she approached. 

     Bowing to her gracefully, he found himself perplexed. When they had previously met, she comported herself in a different way, with more effervescence. Now, she appeared as glum as he on this evening. “My Lady Caterina, how wonderful to see you again,” Nikita said. Despite his own gloomy air, he was pleased to find someone who seemed to be sharing the same raincloud overhead. “My journey was …” he trailed off for a moment, searching for the proper word to describe the whirlwind that had been his life since he set foot on a boat bound to cross the channel, “tumultuous, but enlightening. I would ask about your journey but I first must ask if you would like me to acquire us both some more wine, as based upon your expression, I think we could both do with something more to lift our spirits.”

“wine I believe may be the only tonic that can cure us.” waving to a servant with a pitcher with a lazy hand, caterina gestured for him to leave the whole thing instead of filling up only their goblets. “I apologize that it is so easy to discern my dour attitude, I wish I could be of better company to you.” but alas, she was adrift in her own hurricane of thoughts, the memories of a time long past rushing through her mind faster than she could form words. it was a scent of rose, a glimpse of something shiny, anything around the corner that could set her off remembering a different time, a different version of herself.

Thomas chuckled darkly at her comments, for her sharp cunning cut away any pretense - and mystery - he still possessed. In the wake of such humbling observations, it was difficult to suppress amusement, which bubbled up in pride’s place. “Then we are both subversive creatures,” he shrugged, slipping the bottle from her grasp, “and I am lucky, as well.”

As she shared, the pair passing the bottle back and forth, Thomas found himself transfixed. Grateful to listen, to not answer questions himself, he leaned into the tale, eyes narrowing with interest. The French Court was a place of opacity, for while many English monarchs had laid claim to this throne, they knew little of its inner workings. The affairs of the D’Anjou clan seemed unable to cross the Channel, and instead seeped their way south, toward His Holiness and the Vatican. While Thomas imagined they swayed favor with their opulence, it did not surprise him to see such a sad story set upon their backdrop.

“The French are known for indulgence and abandon,” he murmured, offering the bottle for her to swig. “They cannot even claim their own poison - their own stench of rot.”

She spoke with a grace about her, lightness gilding decay. It was most intriguing, or perhaps puzzling, to see someone brave pain without flinching. Such countenance only entranced him more, drawn to understand the extent of her journey fully and without censorship. “This man - he is your father? Or your husband, then? Tell me what befell you within this cursed court?”

as the hour ticked away caterina could feel the liquor working its dark magic, loosening her tongue and hammering away at her secrets. be it the intoxication poisoning or the words spilling out of her very soul, caterina felt lighter with every new word. and who but to tell than this shadow of a man, youthful curls drooping over sad eyes pretty much all she could see of him when a cloud passed over the brilliant moon.  “you are lucky to have never been housed in this city. to have never had wanted so badly to be one of them.” her body was turned, only half facing him as she stared into the darkness of the room, perhaps imagining the social occasions of the past held in the space.

and she had wanted it so badly, an ache deep in her core to be accepted into a new family. how she’d been so wrong, so naive in the thought that family could be made and married into, and not just by blood. for all the champagne and caviar she’d consumed in paris, behind them were the sleepless nights and isolation. “nobody but the english know how deep the rot truly runs.” she mused, fingers deftly snatching the bottle from his grasp. “I knew I would experience luxury here. what I didn’t know was that I had left something much more valuable and rare behind. family. true, unwavering, unblinking loyalty. it is something you’ll never find in all the treasure chests of paris.” 

⚜

A trip. Was that the extent of Caterina’s knowledge? Lorenzo should not be as surprised as he was; he had not told her, but he had expected that if not to him, Seraphina would at least be writing to Caterina. But of course, he had been wrong about plenty regarding her, and was wrong here too. His smile twisted. “A trip. Indeed. It was more than that, it—she was with child. When we returned from Lisbon. I thought you might know.” He paused, his mouth uncomfortably dry. “It was not to be. She left after… after.” Was this the first time he had had to speak of it? It was; the words in their bluntness would not emerge. He frowned, running a hand through his hair. The curse of Paris; perhaps that was indeed what had struck them.

He shook himself, turning back to the desk. “Nor should you have to. I assure you, I shall not be dealing with Marius myself. But the king cannot be ignored. If you believe you have influence with him…” he trailed off. All of this could not be for nothing, but what it was for was a question yet.“I suppose it depends on what they intend to do.”

At another mention of Seraphina, he groaned, turning to glare at his sister. “No, I have done nothing to—mortally wound her. Do you really expect such from me, Cat? No, I have… I… I cannot believe myself to be at fault. Not here.” She had barbed him, struck him even as he attempted to reassure her that she had never failed him. He pressed a hand to his face. “She has asked for an annulment.”

“what?” her hands stilled as her mind spiralled, now completely sidetracked from their business matters. lorenzo and seraphina had their problems in the past, often of lorenzo’s doing, but she’d never imagined something so awful had torn them apart. what had been a mostly lighthearted discussion on her part had stalled and died in that one word, a word conveying all the tumult she felt. “i — i did not know.” her voice cracked in sorrow for seraphina, her dear sister who’d prayed so hard for a baby. the pieces were now all falling into place, seraphina’s abrupt departure and the absence of any letters coming from naples. what caterina had thought to be a vacation in the neapolitan sun was clearly a much more somber affair. her hand flew to her lips, which had fallen open in shock. “and nobody saw fit to tell me? oh —  i ... what a horrible sister-in-law i’ve been. what an awful sister.” she barely heard his words of marius, and seeing him press a hand to his face she closed the cavernous distance between them, gathering him in a hug with the tightness that only a sister could give. 

she hoped it went a fraction of a way in showing how sorry she was. so caught up in work had she been that caterina had completely neglected her more womanly duties of family and compassion. convinced after her annulment that she would never hold the position of custodian of family, she’d neglected to keep an eye on the family she did have. “I am sorry lorenzo. sorry that I did not even think...that i wasn’t there in florence, with you, where I should have been.” though caterina had trouble remembering it, she was a woman, a sister, a mother first before she was a banker or a politician, and she’d failed miserably in her duty. but more surprises were to come, and as lorenzo said his next words caterina stepped back in shock, a hand reaching out to the desk and the forgotten ledger to steady herself. “lorenzo, no. you cannot be true with this allegation.” she tasted bile at the back of her throat at the very word, and she shook herself as to be rid of it. “it is a folly. a threat that should not be spoken lightly.” a flash of anger struck caterina’s chest at the thought, but she couldn’t put her finger on exactly whom it was directed at. “it is grief speaking through seraphina’s lips...it cannot be her true wish...right brother?” brown eyes looked to him for confirmation, searching his face for the only answer that she’d accept.

closed starter for @ofcxterina· (Caterina de Medici) France - he absolutely loathed  being trapped in his rival’s territory. Despite his ability to travel more freely than his sister-in-law, he had come to his senses about being unable to leave now. Not only did the world come together in this ungodly kingdom, but also the mother of his son. The lengths of which he’d go for her couldn’t be measured, so it was his duty, his wish, to remain in a kingdom surrounded by enemies. To check up on Caterina remained his priority, even after meeting the king of Castile, after being with Lorenzo, after having witnessed the beauty of Yicheng. Cesare made his way towards her lodging, slowly, but surely. For every step he took backward he continued to move two forward. Contradictions inside of himself wouldn’t allow him to continue without hesitations. She deserved better, not someone with blood on his hands, not someone who’d wanted to set the world on fire and create something better. Not a man who’d thought about war more so than peace in order to keep her safe, to give him the throne he so desired. A broken throne, a bloodstained throne no less, taken away from someone he had to call family, from a woman and a child, his own flesh and blood. 

Pushing all thoughts aside Cesare entered without ever looking back. Now or never, he thought while greeting one of the servants asking for permission to enter. The servant moved accordingly, luckily for him, and opened the door, revealing her beauty and grandeur. Pressing his lips together Cesare admired her for just a moment before entering. “My lady? The count of Pavia, the Mi-” Cesare cut him off immediately “Caterina. My lady.” He bowed further down than to anyone before returning to his previous position, his hands held together behind his back, something he’d seen from the king of Castile and wished to mimic in order to seem more… civilized. “I’ve come to ask for your well-being. I … certainly hope France has been kind to you, bearable.” Great, Cesare. 

caterina paused before turning towards the page and cesare, hearing him cut off the boy before he could get through his whole introduction. it was a deep breath and a beat that gave her the strength to turn around and greet the count, curtsying as he bowed in a rather formal way of introduction. they’d travelled separately from milan and it was the first she’d seen of him since they’d left that city, so many questions left unanswered in the dust kicked up by her carriage. he hated being at least half as much as she did, though cesare was one of the few that knew how badly the french had toyed with caterina’s mental state. not even her brother really knew how pitiful she’d been when she’d arrived in milan the first time, seeking nothing but refuge in a place she knew even french spies stood no chance. 

“to speak of my thoughts on france would be to betray our hosts in their moment of grandeur.” she said with a sigh, arms crossed in front of her like they were the bandages that could keep her from harm. the people had been kinder than expected, but the memories had haunted her through every room and alleyway. in a way, a part of her had died here in paris, a part of her innocence that she could never get back. “and you? how have you fared in the belly of the beast?” their conversation was so stiff, held back by the barriers of misunderstanding. the person caterina had been when she’d first fallen into his arms had been helpless, lost, looking for someone to cling on to. but she’d grown out of that and into a whole new woman, and her mind couldn’t fathom where he’d fit into that now, or if he’d even want to. 

STATUS:closed for @ofcxterina LOCATION: palais-cardinal, seraphina’s private quarters DATE & TIME: february 1459, midday

at the beginning of the lisbon summit, caterina had assured seraphina that she would support her in her personal endeavors, no matter how unorthodox the means. and though she would achieve — and somehow, subsequently fail — those endeavors ( thankfully without the unchristian methods ), she returned to paris not in an entirely different situation than when her coach arrived to the city walls of portugal’s capital. except, this time, the letters exchanged between the sisters-in-law dwindled — nay, they had ceased completely. seraphina simply did not have the heart for it.

but now, as they lived in the same palais once more, there was no avoiding her sister-in-law. instead of letting chance decide their reunion, she decided to write to her and invite her to her chambers. as her maid opened the door, seraphina was hunched over chess board set up near the fire; she had been playing herself. it was a technique the duke of montalto had taught her to keep her mind sharp; nowadays, she mostly used it to distract herself. “ah, caterina,” she mused, eyes not straying to the woman in the doorframe ( perhaps out of shame ) “might you help me with the next move? i’m afraid i’m worse than useless these days.”

it had been a surprise to receive the request from seraphina for a visit. the two women had once been close, and had gotten closer still in lisbon with their share of the city, but in the months past a cavern had opened up between them for which caterina could say no cause. much could be attributed to business of mind and hand, for caterina had been so taken with work in milan that she’d barely had time to rest. in a flurry of letters her and lorenzo had crafted a plan so unique and detailed that it had taken every second of their efforts, and thoughts of seraphina had fallen to the wayside for both of them. but softer of heart and hand, caterina had not completely forsaken her sister-in-law, sending at least two letters to naples to inquire about her wellbeing. they’d gone unanswered and it had hurt caterina more than she thought it would —  had her lapse in attention driven a wedge between them? if so, she was ready to repent and ask for forgiveness, as she missed seraphina’s sweet but stern presence in her life.

god knew caterina needed seraphina more than ever here in france, the site of her original fall from grace. and not only personally, but professionally the medici siblings needed seraphina’s wit and steadfast humor to reach the people they could not. but seraphina, she knew, was fighting her own battles. only recently had caterina learned what she’d been kept in the dark of for so long, the reason for seraphina’s sabbatical in naples. it made her heart ache, even more so that seraphina felt she couldn’t confide in her. so, when seraphina called on her caterina had answered, taking a moment at the door to swallow her hurt pride best she could. “mia sorella, how my eyes have missed gazing upon your beauty.” the words were said softly as not to startle, but clearly the intention wasn’t needed, as the neapolitan woman’s gaze remained firmly on the chessboard. “your next move?” the words sounded startled, bolting out of her mouth like an unbroken horse from a stable, and caterina gritted her teeth to get ahold of herself. “of course, let me take a look.” 

⋯

ilias had hardly been able to believe his luck when he found himself exchanging a flurry of letters with a medici, a family whose reputation had traversed city, kingdom, and continent-wide boundaries, traveling all the way from florence to moscow. he’d had his attendants put away anything he thought the lady de medici might find too russian, too strange. he wanted to give out as european of an air as he could. so the lubki depicting peasant life in the countryside were put away, the tatar rug rolled up and shelved, the paintings depicting alexander nevsky and dmitry donskoi and the moments that mythologized them moved into a different room.

a knock on the door signified the lady’s arrival, and he greeted her, anxious to sweep aside the prerequisite social pleasantries and customs and get to what they both really wanted to discuss. evidently, she felt similarly. “the same to you, my lady. i am glad we are getting the chance to be acquainted,” he said. “wine?” one of his retainers had come in with two goblets and a pitcher. “i will endeavor to answer any and all questions you may have to the best of my abilities, though i fear i may turn out to be far less interesting than i may appear,” he quipped, aiming to put her at ease.

accepting the wine from the servant, caterina took a sip, taking the time to organize her thoughts. she was so intrigued by the entire russian culture, how a society had bloomed from the frozen tundra of the north. they were a strange sort, the russians, not quite fitting into european society but also not really trying to. “well let me start with an easy one then. how do you survive in the bitter cold of the winter?” the question was said with a bit of twinkle in her eye, a jest made to soften their relationship up from the formalities that constrained them. it was caterina’s particular skill, to be able to crack away at hardened exteriors that had made her so valuable in her family’s work. a few pearls placed in the right spots and the easiness of her demeanor was enough to make even the most impenetrable man melt. 

her curious eyes roamed the room searching for hints about the russian way of life, but the room looked much like any other french parlor room would look like. perhaps he hadn’t brought many of the comforts of home, or perhaps the russians weren’t as different as she’d thought. “have you been comfortable here in france?” though she was no longer a princess of france, old habits were dying slower than she’d thought and a chord in her still seeked to make sure that france was perfect, or portrayed as such. it was a feeling that betrayed her, no longer a steward for anything french. “paris has been most splendid during this celebration. it is as gilded as I ever saw it.”

⚜

Lorenzo sighed, heavier than he intended, and took the seat she indicated. It was not Caterina’s fault she did not know, this, nor the… other thing. “Yes. Yes, you couldn’t have known.” He sighed yet again, and turned her way. There was no reason not to say it—if they were meant to discuss business, this was something she should know, also. If—if—Seraphina intended to see this business further, than it would affect Caterina, also. What a mockery the two of them would be. “Things with Seraphina have been… troubled. It has made relaxing difficult,” he tried, but the quip fell flat.

He shook himself, bringing politics back to to the forefront of his mind. “Yes, I had the chance to speak with her. She should do well, I believe. You must know more about what happened to her father; she is doing very well, considering.” He nudged the ledger, leaning back in his chair. “I find myself much the same.” They were a pair, weren’t they? Perhaps it was the Medici curse, if such things existed. They were as like as any other to be on the receiving end of a curse, with all their successes. “A necessary one, indeed! I have received correspondence from the English prince—not the crown prince, Prince Thomas. If all goes well, I shall approach Sultan Iskender as well, about that blasted trade league. The rest remains to be seen. I have my doubts as to the intent of the French here, but that will take time.” He turned one page back on the ledger, and tapped at an account for her to look over. “What are your thoughts?”

“troubled.” she turned the word over in her mouth, tasting iron and feeling the vast unspoken wilderness beyond. how much a word could say, without saying much at all? her first instinct —  always the provocateur with her brother —  was to make fun, a light jest at lorenzo’s past infidelity, but she could feel the rot that exuded from the word and chose to keep silent, if only for a moment longer to choose her words carefully. “I had heard she travelled to naples for a trip. I do hope the curse of paris hasn’t befallen your union as well.” it was a startling fact for caterina to realize she didn’t know what was going on with seraphina. they had been thick as thieves once upon a time, but the letters had dwindled in caterina’s return to milan after the portuguese summit. caterina had chalked it up to business of hands and minds— they were both extremely occupied with the expansion of the bank, and only now did it occur to her that the silence had been prolonged and unusual. 

the siblings continued in two minds, trained from the family gatherings of their youth to intermingle family affairs and business as they were one. it was a jumbled stream of thought that launched caterina into her next few phrases, mind firmly focused on the ledger while her heart called for seraphina. seraphina, who truth be told had become the beating heart of their little family, compassionate enough to face the world differently than the two siblings but stubborn enough to stand up to them when their brains ran faster than their words. “I for one, shall be doing no business with the french except calling on them to pay their debts.” she paused, admission creeping into her voice as she continued, “but I do still have quite a good relationship with the french king...he will take counsel from me I believe— brother, before we continue, please tell me that seraphina is okay? that you haven’t mortally wounded her in anyway a woman could not come back from? I know how you can be, throwing your words about like daggers.”

⚜

Lorenzo laid the ledger down on the table Caterina indicated, letting it fall open on the page he had been perusing, before turning to face her with a sigh. “Long, was what it was.” He shook his head, turning back to the desk at mention of his wife. “We travelled from Firenze together, Cat, so yes, I saw her.” That was not to say that he had not been to see her since their arrival in Paris; and how could he forget how very disastrously that conversation had gone? Lorenzo rubbed a hand across his face. It was the last thing he wanted to speak of, even to family. But…  just for a minute, his eyes travelled to Caterina, remembering the fact that they were in Paris, the city she no longer called home because of that very word he so wished not to hear at this time.

No, he shook himself; the circumstances were entirely different. “I thought we were here to speak of business?” he snapped—and instantly regretted it.

They had been finding their footing, in matters of business, with Cat in Milan, in a prime position to manage that branch. Paris was meant to be the first situation they approached in tandem. To snap at her—particularly now—was the last thing he needed. “Pardons,” he said, letting his shoulders drop from their stiff position. “How was your journey? Milano is not much closer to Paris; it must have been long also. Perhaps we should have travelled together.”

“well I apologize lorenzito, I did not know that she had returned to firenze before your travel here.” her words, though snapped back at him, had no real bite. she was not here to fight with her brother, not now when they had so much to do, and not here in this city where she could use every ounce of goodwill he could give. 

though it seemed he was determined to fray her nerves, and she had to bite her tongue to not lash back out at him. what would their mother say, if she saw them nipping at each other like they had when they were young? no— they were far too old now, and far too busy to let the normal bickering of siblings get in their way. “relax lorenzo.” she took his apology with a nod of her head, tugging his arm down so he’d drop down into the chair in front of the desk, letting her look at the ledger for a moment. 

“my journey was surprisingly pleasant, considering the destination. young isabella sforza has grown into a fine young woman and was splendid company. she’ll do well here in paris.” her words trailed off as her fingers ran over a line in the ledger, brow furrowing downwards as she tried to make sense of the puzzle in front of her. but it was a distraction, really, a tool to help the in their plans if needed. tearing herself away from the numbers (which always seemed to draw her in for hours) caterina sighed, instead picking up the piece of paper under the ledger where she’d been making notes. “business, it seems, occupies my mind more than anything else these days. a welcome distraction, but also a necessary one. tell me, what are your plans for the time we are here?”

location:  palais-cardinal 

for: @ofcxterina

   Paris left Hisham further acquainted with Caterina; further acquainted yet, with the man she remained precariously tied to. He knew well the burden of narrative - the weathering of foreign language, pressed into his own tongue to deliver callous defamations and senseless arrogance. It made him as good as the blue glory of summer’s infant sky - but libel bore feelings touched, yet not subdued. Kinship was to bound to bloom between them, if only in unlit lanterns, adorning the arena of formal syndications. During tea, Caterina was kind, as it seemed her nature to be; the meal presently over, she made a cosy arrangement on the cushions of the sofa, and obliged Hisham to sit. She and an attendant drew to the fire, the meditative silence enduring but ten minutes time. 

     He caught the eye of the former fastened upon him; women were certainly quicker in many a thing, than man. Conscious of her charms, Caterina was in a valiant humour; her small brown eyes, alighted with a sparkle. Hisham’s ear and mind retained perpetual readiness for divisive themes; his sympathy, permanently under arms. He sought to introduce talk delicately, anonymously as it were. “Your brother has made quick work of those gathered for the canonisation, or so I have heard - though I take pause, to consider the wealth of patrons, as perhaps your doing. We have cosigned ourselves to talk of business and gains, and I shall not deny us the satisfaction” Hisham took pause in amiable reluctance, to bury brighter topics, “But Paris, brimming with mirth, proposes a myriad of thoughts - what do you make, of the honour bestowed upon the late King? Perhaps I talk of little else; I know myself, to be enamoured by a spectacle.” 

to have audience with kings was no small feat, but caterina in her prosperity had grown almost used to it. to think of it was a curious thing, the way her family had started from mere common folk then grown to merchants, nobles, and finally grand dukes and duchesses, able to have tea and peddle their wares with the most powerful of men and women. it was money that got them there and it was money that’d get them to the dizzying heights the sibling pair were now reaching for, one king, queen, and conqueror at a time. an audience with kings was almost commonplace now, but to be entertaining an emir still made a thrill go through caterina’s whole body. young and naive as a young girl, she’d imagined her greatest achievement to be perhaps mothering future kings and queens. serendipitous fate had led her down a different path, one culminating in an extreme dedication to the bank and her family.

it was this same dedication that she so admired of the emir. she’d grown up hearing bloody stories of his conquests and the proof was in the way he still moved, graceful and powerful, but he was so much more than the stories would suggest, calm and introspective. she had enjoyed their conversation so far about their families and travels, but business was what truly tied them in that meeting. “any conversation with you has proven to be more than satisfying to me, both educationally and personally, but yes, I say we do turn ourselves to the matters at hand.” she laughed softly, waving his words away, not truly able to take credit for the work she’d done in paris so far. “i will admit we have thrown ourselves most diligently into the spectacle. the honor for the royal family of france is of course, great.” she paused, her thoughts tripping over themselves as to not give her personal feelings space to be spoken into life. “the boost that this will give france cannot be ignored...but I believe this is an opportunity for us all. to speak on things that were perhaps not breached during our time in lisbon.” it was a tricky thing, to use a huge, distracting event to one’s advantage, but after florence’s omittance in the landmark trade deal struck in lisbon, caterina and lorenzo had promised themselves to focus in on their duty. 

Thomas chuckled darkly at her comment. He had rarely been sober since their arrival in France, though it took more and more now to reach that place of numbed clarity. His decision-making seemed only a benefit to the crown, as he continued to find himself in personal situations both titillating and unbecoming. Even now, he could tell that his companion was one who bore a deep shame, and it he found comfort in its glow, for he felt it drape over his shoulders too like a heavy throw. 

“They are confirmed enough by your furtiveness,” his eyes followed her across the room. “An unburdened soul does not seclude itself.”

After all, had he not sought refuge in the same parlor, cavernous from the empty pit that ate away within? Thomas poured with a heavy hand into the glass, intent on filling himself up without thought to how.

“I keep no French company,” he assured her. A man who prided himself upon his progressive ideals - his openness - still bore the scars of his country’s loss. It hardened him to otherwise agreeable company. It narrowed his scope with prejudice: nothing more than a pox on the heart. “But I shall keep your confidence. French ear or other alike, my trade is not in secrets. There are men of tougher mettle who have the stomach for that.”

“I prefer them more when I am not the visage of one,” he carried the bottle over to where she stood, pouring into her glass. If they were to bare broken souls, it would not be sober. The truth was that he cared little for the sad tales of old, of epics saturated with loss and sacrifice. They all ended the same - mortal folly leads to the fall. He craved something more creative - redemption, hope. “I will enjoy yours.”

“my furtiveness is borne out of necessity only. these halls know me too well to let me rest easy.” her droll tone fell on the dark room heavily leaving no room for the lightness of the party in the other room to spill over. “though I suppose I could say the same about yourself. at least I knew this room had spirits in the cabinet.”

she swallowed the dark liquid slowly at first, then more quickly like it was water, the burn giving her something else to think about. it was something she could control at least, how much she would imbibe, when so many things felt out of control here in the city that had once shone with splendor through her eyes. 

“well, you may have a prophetic bone in your body yet. ironically, that is where my story starts, with a man of tougher mettle whom some say was born spewing lies and gathering spies.” marius’ affinity for secrets had made him an efficacious choice for her marriage but the way it had returned to haunt her again and again had made her hate the shadowy world he lived in even more.