rule and ruin

Magda stood from her seat with a clatter -- all eyes in the room turning to her at the noise. She met each with a glare, daring them to speak or challenge her. She was done with this meeting. So entirely done that it wasn’t even funny. It was fortunately a non-required meeting, one to discuss some high-way robbers that had set up shop on the alpine roads. With the Alps spanning much of Austria, she’d been obligated to attend but she wasn’t going to stick around if all these stuffy royals and advisers were just going to talk over each other about unrelated things.

Leaving the room in a fluffy of fabric and clicking heels, she entered the hallway with a scowl and dagger-sharp gaze that scared off most of the scurry servants. She crossed the halls and placed her hands on the windowsills, staring out at the grounds below. It did little to soothe her soul and the sound of approaching footsteps only caused her to grit her teeth. She turned to look at who it was, eyes narrowing as she set sights upon the Egyptian king.

   ❝ What are you doing about? ❞

It was a sunny day in Paris but Gwyneth’s gloominess was something that strove from within. She always had her polite smile etched on her face, even without trying, but her eyes spoke volumes of sadness to only those who could see.

Despite her silent mourning though, the Scottish lady tried to see the best of anything during her time in France. She was taking the opportunity to get her mind off of things that she didn’t want to deal with at the moment and visiting the gardens of the palace had quickly become one of her favorite ways of doing so. The blonde stepped outside, walking among the most colorful flowers when she sensed the presence of another behind her. 

“You came to see the flowers too?” she asked before turning to face the other person. “They’re indeed beautiful,” she said as she shifted her entire body to face them with her usual small smile.

France wasn’t as warm or sunny as Spain was -- and it certainly held no candle to her home, hundreds of miles across the ocean. Though she missed both at times, Spain and Cuba, she was happy to be here. In France she would get to see and experience new things and, if everything panned out, perhaps she’d even get to witness the forging of a new peace. How wonderful it would be to live in a world without war.

Though there was a basket of clothes in her arms, to be hemmed and patched and cleaned after a raucous night for the Spanish royals, Rosenda was leisurely on her way to the workshop. Her feet dragged and her eyes wandered, taking in the sights and sounds of the garden she passed through.

She blinked, looking behind her when the blonde woman spoke. She had noticed her out of the corner of her eye but paid her no mind -- two strangers in a garden, after all, but she smiled brightly in return.   ❝ No, but I may be taking some to do so anyways, ❞   she said with a small laugh. 

Brown eyes widened as the woman turned to face her fully, catching on the roundness.   ❝ Oh my... Are you...? ❞   She trailed off with a nervous chuckle.   ❝ Never-mind me, I’m being nosy and that’s not a good thing to be.  Are you having a good day? ❞

Hand still caressing his cheek, Viviana was completely enchanted to see the boy- man, he was a man. And she was a woman. A woman who was engaged. Had someone seen such a innocent act, they’d think nothing of it. But she knew, and that was all reason not to continue. 

Removing her hand, Viviana placed them behind her back, not wanting to tempt herself. “And you as well,” she smiled up at him, completely taken back at his presence. Years. Years had gone by and yet they seemed to have found each other. 

Fate?

No, enough of that. No use chasing childish dreams and fantasies. It wasn’t going to happen. Not then, not now. Certainly not now. But.. she could be happy to see an old friend, right?

And just like that, she couldn’t help herself, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly. “Oh, I’ve missed you. I thought you were gone forever, dead even. I have to say, this is much better than the latter,” she giggled lightly, face buried in his neck.

They were both older no, clearly. He’d filled out in the chest and she’d lost the baby fat in her cheeks. But she was still Viviana and her hand on his cheek was warm and welcome. He was hesitant to touch her, to ruin what felt like a mirage, but he rested one hand on her shoulder and the other itched to touch her too. So beautiful and so familiar, even in spite of the years that had separated them.

When she removed her hand and held it behind her back, his brows twitched but he ignored it. It was just... Well, it didn’t mean anything, did it? Just realizing how much she’d lost herself to the moment. He let his hand drop to his side though, blue eyes peering down at her.

He chuckled though his heart thudded at what she’d thought. His arms wrapped tight around her as he caught her..   ❝Oh, I... I think you’d know if I’d died,❞   he said with a huffed laugh. But would she? The distance that spanned between them, the conflict that kept their countries apart... Why would she know? Why would anyone think to tell the little Spanish girl about the dead English knight who wasn’t even English?

Speaking of...

   ❝I didn’t expect to see you here,❞   he said, stroking a lock of her brunette hair.   ❝I didn’t think you’d... Well, I just didn’t realize this was something you’d be invited to.❞   Not that he was complaining.

His anger and disdain for her was laughable in that moment. She honestly could not comprehend how much of a snake one had to be in order to be that uptight and unfun all of the time. She couldn’t even be upset that he had pushed her. Though she was certain if she told her father the whole Alekos problem wouldn’t be a problem anymore. Not that she could actually do that. As much as she normally hated the boy she couldn’t be the reason he lost his job…or his life….

“Pathetic,” she scoffed, repeating his word. She pushed up on her palms rearranging herself on the bench so she was in a more comfortable position. The joke was on her though, no position was comfortable. “I’m beginning to think you only know that one insult. It’s sad, not even on the list of bad things I’ve been called. come on I’ll let you try again.” She quipped with a teasing smile. Her mood could change at any moment and she was playing with fire. Even drunk as she was she understood that. 

He hated her, he did. Spoiled rotten -- unaware of just how good she had it. You’d think, after recklessly wandering off to war, she’d realize but of course not. You’d think, after watching bloodshed and death, she’d finally get it but no. She was a princess, even she hated her title. He was arrogant, yes, but at least he was self-aware. Nicoletta seemed completely incapable of that.

   ❝ I am not here to quibble with you, ❞   he replied. He was good at not rising to the bait. He’d had a lifetime of practice -- of people mocking his dreams of bettering himself and of others mocking his origins once he had. Keep his head high and eyes on the prize. Girls like this would be meaningless in the long run.   ❝ You may have nothing to do but get drunk off your ass but I do. I will have the guards escort you to room where you will stay until you sober up. One can only pray you’ll take the time for self-reflection. ❞

Yuki wasn’t bothered by the rejection. Her father didn’t much believe in such things either but nevertheless Yuki continued hold the flowers, intending to bring them back to her room. 

“I feel the same. Have you been here long?” Yuki inquired. 

Calliope knew she wasn’t the most trustworthy looking person. Christ, some people considered her a criminal just for wearing trousers. And admittedly, there were parts of Calliope’s past that weren’t completely legal. Still, in Calliope’s mind, she had just reason for doing those less legal things. The woman sat in front of Calliope hadn’t done anything to ignite the young girl’s fury. 

“The best method is to dunk your head in freezing cold water,” Calliope replied, smiling at the memory of drunken her own father’s head in such water. “However, it’s a bit warm for the water to be cold enough.

“Weak ale mixed with sugar, and as you look like you can afford it, ginger,” Calliope commented, guessing the woman to be royalty, or at the very least nobility. Perhaps Calliope should have chosen more respecting words, but Calliope tended to treat all people the same. Unless they gave her reason not to, one way or another. 

It wasn’t the trousers or even the rough, blunt speech that raised Magda’s doubts. She’d be a hypocrite if that were so. No, trusting just wasn’t a thing she did. She didn’t get as far as she did by being everybody’s fool. Paranoia, suspicion, and a hearty-dose of reservation had made her who she was. Queen Regnant of Austria. And letting any of that good would be a one-way ticket to the bottom.

   ❝ That also seems quite unpleasant, ❞   she replied with a twitch of her lips.   ❝ What else have you got? ❞ 

Magda nodded at the answer.   ❝ Coin is not an issue, I assure.❞   Though, perhaps some of the tax payers might argue with her there but she was a queen -- she was allowed luxury however she sought it. Or the cures for the side effects of that luxury.   ❝ I doubt any of that tastes very well, does it? Is it the sugars that helps or the ale? ❞

❝ I have no idea what you’re on about. I am a saint. ❞

❝ Oh… Oh damn, I don’t even remember her name. There’s been so many recently. ❞

❝ Last person? How about last people? It was an orgy. ❞

❝ My husband, of course. I am nothing if not a dutiful wife. ❞

❝ He was a tall fellow, broad shoulders and a sharp jawline – quite handsome, much different than my husband. ❞

❝ As if. No one is destined for one another and anyone who says otherwise is a fool. ❞ 

❝ More than anything. She was my rock, my sun, and my everything. Ending our relationship was the worst thing that I’ve ever done and I have dreamed of her every day since then, regretting the life we could have had together. ❞ 

❝ Kosey, of course. Those bug eyes do wonderful things to my soul. ❞

AntiHonesty Day

Send my muse questions and they have to respond with blatant lies.

“Ah I see – Mind if I follow? I was always sort of curious of the Asian sword-welding,” he asked with a grin, hoping to charm the woman. It was clear they was the help so it wasn’t like he could be rejected by them. However he had been rejected by the help before. 

   ❝ If you’d like, ❞   they answered with a small shrug.   ❝ I don’t promise it’ll be particularly entertaining and I offer no refunds if it’s not. ❞   Their lips twitched with a small grin and they started on their way again, expecting the man to fall in line.

Swimming was something she hadn’t done since arriving to France. After finding a nice clear Creek and spending sometime, the princess made her way back to the castle and her room. It took the maids a little while to dry her off and comb through her hair. After that was finished, she opened the door back to her room and made her way towards her bed. Realizing someone was there, she smiled softly but nervously. “You know, it’s not entirely kind to enter without warning " 

Rosenda was a helpful sort of person. When the Norwegian seamstress, who’d been slaving away over a terrifying amount of clothing that day, asked her to bring some gown’s up to the princess, she’d nodded, smiled, and agreed to do so. Arms full of fabric, she followed the direction she was given until she arrived at the room. She hadn’t expected anyone to be here -- many of the royals were out and about at this hour -- but she gave the princess a bow instantly.   ❝ My apologies, m’lady, ❞   she said, her accent -- a mixture of Cuban and Spanish -- clinging to her words.   ❝ I was asked to bring these to you. ❞   She held out the dresses, the beading glinting in the sunlight shining through the windows.

DANAY GARCIA, SHE/HER – Alas, here comes ROSENDA ESPINOSA, the TAILOR of SPAIN. The THIRTY-FOUR year old is known for being GENTLE but also has a tendency of being BLUNT. She is known around court as THE DEMURE which is probably why they are AGAINST the Revolution.

“I imagine you might not. I studied flower arrangements for most of my life. Although, if you think about it you may have seen flowers such as these among those set up in your room or placed on a pillow. They’re called lilacs. You don’t have to take them of course but I imagine the headache isn’t the most enjoyable way to spend your day.” Yuki said withdrawing the offered flower and sniffed it herself with a smile. The relaxing scent filled her senses. Lilacs were one of her favorite plants that she’d found in this garden. 

“My sensei… er teacher tends to put them in the bouquets in my father’s room when he is celebrating something if you catch my drift. I’m Yuki Michiko, ere apparent of Japan. I don’t believe I’ve met your highness before.” She said with a slight bow of her waist. Her kimono wouldn’t allow for the more popular curtsey.

The queen of Austria was skeptical to say the least. Lilacs would make her headache go away, huh? Yeah, sure. Because that didn’t sound like some peasant’s superstitious bullshit. And despite the fact that this girl didn’t look anything like a peasant, Magda knew how wide-spread such idea could become. How many people believe silly things about women and responsibility? How many scandals had she had to crush with an iron fist?

   ❝ You can keep your flowers, ❞   she replied. Her tone wasn’t harsh but it didn’t hint at how silly Magda thought the girl was being.

Magda didn’t bother to get up and return the bow that the other royal offered her but she did nod in response.   ❝ Queen regnant Magdalena Haslingen of Austria, ❞   she replied.   ❝ It’s a pleasure to meet someone from so far away. ❞