#xqueenofscots

“ i am driven by duty. not ambition, regardless of what you might hear. ”

“I have heard many things about you, Mary, Queen of Scots,” said the Grand Duchess, walking closer to the younger woman. “Your reputation preceeds you.” 

      The war party of King Bjorn Ironside had succeeded in breaching the walls of Paris and committed a great sacking. Violence and horror were left behind in their wake, but also riches were stripped. Riches meant more than just inanimate objects though. Bjorn had taken the heir of Scotland with him and now on his boat, the man was staring at her ever coyly, ‘ My men secured this from the king's personal stores.’ He said, pulling a bottle of wine out, ‘ A toast to our new alliance.’ 

         ‘ poisoning? ’      the word tears from her lips like a curse     ;;     the grand duchess might laugh in disbelief, were she not horrified by the very prospect.      ‘ i hardly think  ---   that seems quite   ---   well, how often are people poisoned in french court? ’

Even with the roaring fire, the room was cold. Celia was always cold in Scotland, she had spent her first weeks here sick in bed with a flu brought on by the damp rooms of her husband’s ancestral castle. “Here, have some tea,” she offered her queen, sitting down. 

SHE WAS NOT USED TO BEING SPOKEN TO, often ignored whilst in the lady sansa’s shadow -- out of sight, away from lingering stares. myrcella, who used to wear sunshine in her smile now hid in the dark with little light to give, stolen throughout the years. she enjoyed the silence, the fact that eyes did not linger upon her monstrosity -- it was better this way lest eyes could start to discover the truths beneath her scars. that myrcella lived -- and this girl, proclaiming the name joanna was, in fact, A LIE... 

eyes lift, daring a glance to the woman who called attention -- questions upon her lips, surely to fill the silence which followed sansa’s absence. she stares, as if to weigh the RISK -- fearing recognition and exposure. but mind cannot place a name to the beauty before her, and the lannister -- far from home, fearful little cub -- would speak.    ‘  -- joanna.  ’    voice is soft, delicate -- a whisper, but an answer nonetheless to the inquiry.    ‘  i apologize for the wait, my lady. our queen should be here soon.  ’    an attempt to divert attention, away from her scars -- away from her name -- away from her. 

“ then i           might ask why you are out at this time too? ” trying to avoid an accusing tone, mary was truly concerned — both for tilda and for herself. she would like to avoid trouble at all costs, but was curious as to what made it a less than desirable place to be walking around. “ have you got somewhere to go? i would not like to think of you out here alone too. ”

        The news report had come onto the screen for the third time that morning and Richard couldn’t help the scowl that had come onto his face. The news was now more full of rumours and whispered theories than actual fact. Most thought that George was guilty of the crime and some even thought that he had done it before and the palace had simply covered it up. Richard gave a disgusted sound and then turned the television off and then grabbing his jacket from the chair. He gulped down the half cold cup of tea and then laid it back onto the table. He took his phone from where it had been charging and then headed out of the hotel room. He ignored the looks he was getting and then quickly walked down the street the cold wind tugging at his clothing and hair.