#thunyielding.

Richard was all too happy to enjoy the feast that had been laid out for the patrons of the King's court to graze upon, the tables elaborately made up with the usual flair that he had come to expect from William's court. He surveyed the table before helping himself to a handful of berries, grinning as he turned and laid eyes on the younger of his cousins.

"Dare I ask, who is this woman? You can't be the princess, for surely I remember her being just a girl." Despite the fact she was not so much younger than him to warrant it, Richard took the liberty to tease her, as only a family member could. Still, he was obliged to bow his head in deference, offering a cherry from his palm. "Summer's goods are fading away, but dear Elizabeth, I think you are surely just beginning to bloom."

"I have brought your highness a book of music," Elisabeth explained once the pleasantries and introductions had been squared away. "I hope you will forgive my presumption, but I am told that you are a great lover of music and dancing, like myself. I had some songs which are very popular at my brother's court transposed, that you may enjoy them."

In truth, she had been told a great many things about the English princess, and doubtless not all of it could be relied upon. But even at this first meeting, Elisabeth could tell what did seem to be accurate: a personality and spirit as vibrant as the red hair which shone upon Elizabeth's head.

Weary though she was after retiring from the evening's festivities, Mary knew well that there was a matter of importance to attend to. Despite the years and distance of a channel between them, she bore a deep fondness for her younger sister, forged by the days in her nursery and an enduring correspondence. Strong as her resentment toward Anne Boleyn remained, Mary had never had the heart to blame her children for the situation they found themselves in, and certainly not now that they were among the only blood that remained to her in England. It had been difficult, at first, to acknowlege someone else as England's princess, but her heart had softened quickly as Elizabeth

Reunited, England's princesses might seem a fearsome pair to some; the lion's two daughters, who carried the same red mane and sharp bite. As they say in Mary's rooms, worn from dancing and splendor, they were simply two sisters, sharing stories and a final glass of wine to lull them toward sleep.

since the tumultuous news had come to court, fear had curdled in the pit of John's stomach. Even in the absence of players such as Walsingham, he could not help but feel as though eyes were on him at every turn. It was only a matter of time, he supposed, before answers were asked of him, even though he had none to give. The summons from the princess brought him both relief and dread, the Earl dressed in his best before he bowed before Elizabeth. In this place now, she looked entirely regal, in a way that had only been reserved for her brother in past years. Of course William was still King, but there was no doubting that his sister ruled at least over court in his stead, and there was little difference as to the danger he was in under either's watchful eye.