tagging: anyone !!
location: the chapel within hĆ“tel saint-polĀ
Ā Ā Ā it had been some thirty years since isabella had departed her homeland for a throne she no long coveted and a husband no longer compendious. within that time, she had returned to the country of her birth only once, then she had been a queen as radiant as the sun in splendour, basking within the regality of her status. now she was naught more than a pitiful exile, shrouded by grief, vexation and an all consuming hunger for vengeance. the experience, may have been humbling to most ā a prime example of how fortunes wheel could cast even the mightiest into the murkiest of waters ā yet for isabella, the turning of the wheel had only heightened her own hubris. ardent in her belief they would one day bask in the sunās rays once more, she had fortified, exerted patience and watched henryās court as though a predator stalking its prey, awaiting the opportune moment to strike.Ā
such a moment had finally arrived, after twenty long years she had the opportunity to flex her political prowess within the court of her french relatives. her letters of support may have gone unanswered in the past, but to hear her pleas parted from her own honied lips was something no king nor emperor could disregard. whilst it was true that her position had been weakened since the death of her son, her husband still breathed and as greatly as she wished their roles had been reversed, at the very least he was still a direct threat, if only in theory alone.Ā it was for them both that she had taken to her knees in prayer that morning, the quietude of the chapel soothing her tormented soul and offering guidance for a woman who had long-since lost any semblance of sainthood. with her final declaration of devotion uttered, isabella made the sign of the cross upon her person, raising to her feet in order to light a candle for the slain martyr sprung from her own womb.
ā hasten to tell me what should be so important as to disturb a queen at prayer.ā she spoke to the figure looming within the shadows. there had been a time when tears stained her cheeks upon her solemn reflection into all that had been lost and she would have confronted any trespasser, friend or foe, with the damnation of fire and brimstone, lest they gaze upon isabella in anything but her queenly regality. tears had long since ran dry, the drought of emotion hardening to icy glaciers.Ā












