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The one place the young Queen felt completely at peace was on her horse. It was away from all the hustle of the life at the palace and the political movements of everyone around them. A cough drew her attention and she gave a start, before smiling at the person who had appeared. “Hello there, what brings you out here today?”
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“Forgive me, I am new at court and do not know your name,” Bea told the stranger who greeted her as she sank into a low curtsy. She rose with smiling eyes and laughter on her lips. She was wearing one of the new gowns her father had commissioned for her upon her appointment as a lady-in-waiting and she thought she could feel admiring eyes on her everywhere. Her hair cascaded in ringlets down her back and bounced when she rose up from her curtsy.
The pond had seemed so peaceful; a suitable distraction from the recent turn of events. The King of France was now betrothed. The last time he had been was when he was nine years old and he was now thirty-six. And to a Scot too; how his mother would curse him- but the thought of it was the only thing that would bring a smile to his lips. Through the corner of his eye, all Louis could see was the approaching figure behind him. “I would prefer to be alone, if you do not mind,” he said without looking to see who it was.
@crownprincejacques
The thread made barely a sound as Isobel pulled it through the cloth, the crackle of the fire drowning it out for the most part. Her attention was only devoted partly to the needlework she did, her gaze occasionally drifting out the window and away from her work. Her face had its normal impassive look, concealing all and any thoughts she may have.
A knock at the door broke what little attention she had. Her guard called into her. “The Dauphin, your Grace,” he called. She had told them Jacques was permitted to enter, however her guards were sometimes sticklers about still announcing a visitor. “Please let him in,” she called out. The door opened a moment later, allowing Jacques in as Isobel rose and gave a quick curtsey.
marguerite’s hand rested on her stomach, not yet large enough for the child within to be noticeable under voluminous skirts to those who did not already know of her condition. she was the picture of serenity, the fresh air of the gardens a welcome change, and a smile graced her lips as she noticed an approaching figure. ‘ it is such a lovely day - will you not join me? ‘
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Galen, dressed in black and edged in gold, stood silhouetted against the silver-gray sea, and watched from above as ships crept into the harbor and were laden and unladen. He could pick out the small figures of the sailors on the rigging, the merchants and officials examining charters and trade goods. One jeweled hand rested idly on a parapet fuzzed with a yellow-green moss.
“Brave men to sail on winter seas,” he remarked. “I wonder which of those ships will manage to limp home.”
“My brother is not here” James didn’t turn as he spoke, he didn’t really see the point. He was used to most people here simply trying to find the king, and mistakenly being pointed in his direction. He was not in court normally, and it was rare for anyone to be looking for him, something he was relieved by.
The day of talks had been a tiring one with little progress, and Arthur was more than a little glad to escape the chamber. Who knew what the results would be, but he was determined that England would come out of it better than they went in.
Entering the Great Hall towards the end of the concert, he loitered by the doorway as the final movement began. Turning to the person next to him, he murmured, “I hope I haven’t missed nothing to exciting.”
