It was surely a blessing and rarity that the Queen of France, who had been forced to mature beneath the harsh hand of fate, still nurtured kindness. And though Lucrezia knew just how full her heart was, she was still taken aback — she even stumbled, one foot moving backwards as her hands hung by her sides. In truth, Alexandrina’s lady-in-waiting couldn’t quite picture herself practising love and appreciation for the King’s mistress (and in turn, the mother of his bastard child), for how could she? She had heard the whispers and knew that Alexandrina’s French ladies knew and were fond of Marguerite in a way Lucrezia couldn’t fathom. In fact, she wished to shake her friend from her shoulders; to coax any and all softness from her bones — such tenderness would be the end of her, if the pair of them weren’t insanely and devotedly careful to their previous station.
With a huff offered stubbornly from behind pouted lips, Lucrezia walked towards one of the empty chairs that would’ve been used to nurse hungry babes, falling into its cradle before leaning upon the arm, putting a hand to her mouth to rub fingertips upon her mouth. Alexandrina was of the utmost importance… She was reminded of this again and again, in the eyes of her Uncle or the stern gaze of Her Majesty the late King’s mother.
“Do not ever think that I do not trust you, for we have been through just enough to know what to do in such situations — but you must remember where we are. What we are to these people. We are not theirs, not till you give them children and heirs — it is a horrid task, but we must”, ” Lucrezia assured, watching as the young Queen passed her, watching as her hair swayed from side to side (she would have to help her brush through it later in fear of knots and stray tangles). On the subject of men and used skin, Lucrezia could not yet imagine that Harry did not think of Alexandrina as a weapon for his success. France and England, of course, were ancient enemies who would fight till both or either were diminished by God’s own strike.
Running her finger along her lower lip, Lucrezia muffled a groan, pushing herself back to the soles of her feet as Alexandrina brought such velvet palms to the sides of her face. Perhaps she could love, perhaps she could offer her forgiveness and unadulterated kindness — but Lucrezia would remain on guard; and if her dear friend’s softness would be returned with violence of malice, oh, she would drive her dagger till the hilt into both belly and throat. She would make them pay, she would get her revenge.
But she did not let this be heard, and instead, she removed Aleandrin’s hands to hold them between their bodices instead. “I will stand by you, believe me. I will do as you ask, but I will also put your safety and well being above all else,” hinting towards her own plans, before dropping her fingers to take her arm instead. Lucrezia de Vidaure was not troubled by love, for she knew the rules. As a daughter who had grown up motherless, loveless and friendless, Lucrezia had always known that love was not to be on the cards.
Instead, perhaps not formally aware to Alexandrina, she had taught herself to exchange secrets, lessons, whispers and knowledge with the skin on her body. She had always known that love was unavailable, even when playing the courtier within the Aragonese and Portuguese courts (when dabbling with affection and attention onto Alexandrina’s brother, Mateo). And in recent years, she had realise just what power she held in her figure, her tongue and lips. She would use such a weapon to unmask who killed the late Arargonese Monarchs, and would solidify Alexandrina’s standing with knowledge and intrigue.
With a soft squeeze to the other’s arm, Lucrezia leaned her head upon her shoulder, and sighed softly as not to disturb her. “My love affairs are non-existent! I spend all my time caring for you, for your court…” she confessed, before moving to begin plaiting her hair, weaving such softness between her fingers in concentration. “But I have fallen to such softness, of course I have. But I have learned that a tender middle does little for the heart — I am not a Princess, I am not a Duchess or even a daughter of someone who holds such power. I am not meant to love in this environment… The closest I have ever been to submitting to such power has been with Mateo — but if anything, I care for him as I care for you… He is a bad influence,” Lucrezia divulged, laughing quietly.
“I only seek the truth of what happened to your late and well-loved parents. And of course, for your happiness… As of that, I thought that you should direct yourself to a physician, and I wondered, have you thought anymore to looking for alternative methods? I hear the Tsesarevna conceived her own babe due to… sources outside of the norm.”
People asked a lot of Queen Alexandrina and in return, she asked just as much of those around her whether it be Lucrezia or Mateo or Cristobal. This was what they had all been waiting for, no? This was their chance to be important, to change the course that had been set a generation before. It had changed them, steeling the already formidable Lucrezia while Alexandrina took a more meandering path, wincing away from threats of malice or bloodshed that lurked in her court but it was all for the best, their differences ensuring they never resided in an echo chamber of their own making.
“Ah, I believe Mateo loves to think himself in love, merely because he can,” Alexandrina scoffed as if the very thought was ridiculous, as if she did not understand the pull, as if she did not envy him, “But I know you will never let him convince you that he is worthy of your sole devotion. Not now, when he still walks through this world as a boy and you have grown into the most capable of women. But if you do find a soul deserving of your love and affection, you must never be afraid to reach out and take such an opportunity as I fear they are rare...” The queen, like her brother, could be a romantic where Lucrezia was the only one who could bring her back down to earth. Alas, in her drunken state she was unafraid to be a thorn in her friend’s side, to push where she normally would not, “I shall leave it at that but you know, you shall always have my support whatever path you choose.” She sighed, reaching back to where the other woman stood plaiting her untamed tresses, squeezing her arm tight for a moment. Indeed, queens were not permitted to love but their favorites could be afforded differently and she quietly feared that by keeping Lucrezia at her side, she could be holding her back from a better life, free of danger and isolation. But of course, it was in Alexandrina’s nature to fret and it was in Lucrezia’s to be certain.
“The physician, Monsieur Barnaud, he says that what happened to me is perfectly normal. He says it is a sign that I shall conceive again but I fear such attempts have driven a wedge between Philip and I...” She trailed off, turning the toll over and over in her mind. Only a child in her belly would undo the festering resentment that had begun to take hold. Husband and wife needed common ground and the kingdom itself was not enough. “What ever do you mean by outside of the norm? I can’t imagine anything as strange as the dried bear’s milk that he has sent me to bed with each night this month!” Wide, curious eyes turned upon her companion, once more grateful for the vastness of the castle where such odd conversations were not at risk of being overheard. The tsesarevna, she recalled, was not born of their church and while she had never given it much thought before, perhaps a different perspective could indeed be credited with the arrival of a babe in far-off Russia.
