; Poised

The second day, the Prince noted in his diary. The second day he had been at court. What a marvelous experience it was now he walked amongst the others. The Royals, the alliances, gathered around to share the expertise of life and reign. How beautiful and curious it was. Domenico was keen to meet each and every royal in person, having shared at least a word. A young lady caught his eye, right after he finished his visit to his chambers - for they had given him a room all the same. In utter politeness and need of human interact, he stepped closer to the girl - looking at a painting as his head merely hovered above her shoulders.

Her reaction fascinated him, leaving a charming smile on his face as their eyes met; oh, how she apologized. “No need to apologize, m’Lady.” He held out his hand -  waiting for an acceptance. “Please, don’t mind my rude interruption for I am new at court and rather excited. The French decorations are remarkable!”

Brown eyes and a sultry voice greet the girl in a manner she is not used to. He is a flowery looking boy in comparison to those she grew up alongside: with his tailored clothing and his hair perfectly combed to frame his face - his demeanor reminded her somewhat of her late husband, leaving a bitter taste on a slack tongue. She is not inclined to give him her hand, her hesitance clear in the way she stalls, her eyes roaming over his facial features once again. Perhaps she did not have to offer her hand, but she did besides, not wishing to raise suspicion among the people of French court - but something within her made distrust rise into her breast.

"Ah, yes, I fear I've grown used to them, thus they do not have such a grand affect on me... Please excuse my poor manners, I am Princess Roslin Konig of Saxony, it is a pleasure." Oh how her honeyed words slid out of her mouth so easily, so many years of faking a smile had caused her to be this way. How she yearned to feel something genuine once again.

Mary thought about her favorite season, autumn and she often wondered why it was her favorite season with everything dying. And one would assume winter would be her second favorite since most things are dead. But to Mary winter was far too harsh but somehow she did seek comfort in it. Harshness usually meant the truth and sometimes that was what one needed. She collected her clock and looked to the princess. “I am fairing quite nicely,” Mary mused, a smile still on her face as she spoke. “The days are short but someone seem long all at the same time.”

"I am glad to hear such a thing, French court needs your strength." She offers with a polite upturn of her lips, her hands sliding into the gloves that were always within her pockets. Breaths abscond rose-petal lips in the form of smoke, unfurling from her mouth and climbing up the staircase of the wind. She is in her element, with snow dusting her eyelashes and the sun peeking through the clouds to glint off her skin: a lady of winter, accustomed to the cold, her nose does not turn red so easily as these other royals. "Every day is long for the likes of us, those with the worlds expectations upon our shoulders, do you not agree?"

“Ah but not as busy as the king,” she pointed out, fixing a lock of brunette hair. She followed the girl’s gaze and could not help but wonder if this is how it looked in Scotland right now or if the hills and mountains where bare and lacking life from the winter months. She blinked back to the women and gave her another short smile.

“I would love to.”

"Wonderful, it has been some time since someone has agreed to stroll with me in the winter... I fear many here are not accustomed to such weather and find no comfort in it." She offers with a slight smile on her lips, nodding softly in the direction of the Queen. Where she was from, snow was a gift bestowed upon the people, a beautiful sight to see her home draped in white. It was not often she found others who shared such a love for winter at French court - but by the look residing in Mary's eyes, she knew that there was the same appreciation there. "Tell me, your majesty, how are you fairing these days?"

No words could describe the feeling she brought up to him. Though he was no longer a servant and walked with far more responsibilities through the halls of court, tonight life seemed simple again. As if all the grieve in the world had vanished. “Then please, leave nothing to rest, and tell me your story.” Once she spoke of being a widow - tainted - he placed his hand upon hers (even though they were resting on her lap); suddenly forgotten he could be burned for such actions if they were in a specific mood. “Men are ignorant,” he smiled once he leaned in - searching for her eyes. “I know I am not the right person to tell you that, and many-” he didn’t continue, for he didn’t want to hurt her any more. “What I mean to say is that you will find a suitable husband. Your husband’s death wasn’t anything you could’ve foreseen. Death never waits. And I am deeply sorry for your loss.”

As she took his request, looking at her with her intense blue eyes - piercing right through him - a modest smile drew along his lips, nodding deeply once she explained the mechanism of female defense. “I truly think it’s a great way to keep women safe,” he agreed, squeezing her hand softly - for he’d forgotten to let go of it. “Our king is far too proud to leave his queen with a bow. Though I’ve got to admit Queen Mary is quite a stunner too. She faced many dangers already, and no matter, she stands her ground.”

Taking another sip of the wine, he couldn’t stop looking at her - the smile continuing to charm his face, for he couldn’t wipe it off. “Please, I wouldn’t offer it if it would. I’d be honored to accompany you.”

Panic blooms and shoves itself deep within her gut, it does not show as it is just the promise of what is to come, yet she feels such a thing in her fingertips. How could she have allowed for there to be an opening to tell him of her past? She could never tell him, not now, not whwen he held stars within his eyes while taking in her features - could not shatter his expectations of her so soon by admitting the sins she had committed. No, she had to remain the beautful girl with fire in her hair and ice in her eyes, not the one who murdered her husband in a crim of passion. She had not told anyone, only one other person in the world knew the truth and she wasn't even sure that person would come back from wherever she was hiding - so she was safe, her secret was safe, and she would not betry herself now. Not when life was already a whirlwind of unavoidable chaos. "My life is too long a story to tell now I fear, there is too much to explain." She offers with a soft smile, hoping her beauty can distract him from her obvious avoidance of his inquiry. But he had to understand that she could not indulge in her life after such a brief meeting, at least that much could cover her hesitance. But he didn't seem to mind that she did not wish to tell him as she found his hand laying on hers only moments later. She is tempted to pull her hand from beneath his in an involunatry reflex, but she fights to keep her hand beneath his. She does not need to seem more peculiar than she already is. A friend here would be a good accomplishment, like she thought earlier, especially since he was so close to the King. So she allows him to keep contact with her, a friendly gesture she did not experience often and one she now found herself relaxing into - perhaps it is normal for people to behave in such a way and I am the one who does not know of such things. "I hope you are right, for there are many beautiful women at court who are not as soiled as I looking for husbands as well. I only hope I can find one who will be as good as my husband once was." She says with the same smile she has maintained the entire time, but something flashes on her face that may alert him to her lying if he looks close enough. But she guessed it was not all a lie, her husband had been kind once, he had just become cruel somewhere after her miscarriage. Truthfully, the girl hoped to find a man much kinder than her late husband that would treat her with a tender touch rather than such harshness. Though she had no way of knowing how someone would treat her after they wed, after they found out what she had done. I suppose I will have to merely try to be the best judge I can, to be cautious even when safe, even here.

Mary walked up to the princess, wondering how she had not seen or met her for her last visit to court. She was rattling off questions, the basic ones. How was your journey, are you finding everything to your liking, anything I may get to help your stay be more comfortable? 

She stopped once the girl made eye contact again, blinking. It wasn’t usual for someone to not notice her. But she quickly regained herself. “I was just saying how I did not get the pleasure of seeing you last time you were in France,” she started off, something easy.

"Ah, I understand why you did not, Your Majesty, you are a busy woman... I comprehend better than most being someone with much to do." She offers with a small nod of comprehension, her eyes roaming away from the other woman's to look at the snow dusting the ground just outside the castle window. It felt like home, reminding her of the simpler times she had lived through as a child. When the plague and wars were something that did not rest on her mind.

She sees him from far away, her eyes trained on him as though he is the only thing in the room. A new companion, a friend, an ally in a court she feels so isolated in. Yet she cannot venture to speak with him, cannot stand from the table of royals she is seated at no matter how inclined she is to do so. She must leave him to speak with the fellow commoners around him and watch him from afar. What had her life come to? That she may not even have a friend who was lower in status than her? Was she so cold-hearted and so vain as to throw his kindness aside for the sake of her reputation? She supposed so, as she was unwilling to sacrifice her good name to speak casually with him in public. So she returns her attention reluctantly to the plate before her, silently loathing her self-inflicted loneliness.

Her words were predictable, and for some reason he pitied her. Many women with royal blood streaming through their veins would come around here at court, looking for a suitable husband to share their reign with; yet none of them ever seemed to be as faithful as they would claim in the beginning. True love meant nothing in the world of royals, and Leith experienced so himself. He wondered if humanity could exist without the darkness that lies within the hearts of the reasoning races. Were they a source of evil? Or were they result, a physical manifestation of the rot that permeates the hearts of them all? The latter, he believed. It was not coincidental that demons and devils could not walk the material plane of existence without being brought here by actions of one of the reasoning beings. They were no more than a tool, he knew, an instrument to carry out the wicked deeds in service to the truer source of that evil. Yes, how he found it evil how men would do anything for fortune, when love was truly fortune itself. Only he seemed to know. But maybe that was because he was a low born man; and rather unlucky in love.

The thought brought him down, causing him to put the apple away; batting his eyes as he rubbed his hands together - watching the callus on his fingertips, knowing hers were soft and clean; how much he wished to hold them, even though they just met. Emone seemed to have left his mind, for it was now filled with a whole other lady - though he’d prayed never to fall in love with a royal woman again. “Please, Roslin. Do not worry about my perspective. I do not see you the same as I do the others. You seem different, and it attracts me. I hope you will succeed in finding a proper husband. I doubt it will take much effort, for you are beautiful in many ways it seems.” A blush drew on his cheeks, resulting for him to quickly fetch the bottle of wine once more. 

Once she spoke of the art of archery his eyebrows raised by surprise. Taking a sip, just like she did, his lips curled into a smile - chuckling under his breath once she wiped her lips clean, appreciating how comfortable she seemed to be. “I must tell you it’s not a common art for a woman to perform. I doubt whether it would insult the other royals here or not. No matter, I could lead you to a private training field nearby. No one will know. I will tell the king I’ll be guarding outside the castle, for you’d like to visit the local church nearby. Then, we could practice some archery together-” he looked up at her, wetting his lips before he continued out of curtsy, “if you’d like, m’lady.”

As she was sitting there, it was almost as if she was young again, basking in the rudimentary light given off by the candles in the dining hall of her previous home. It was as if she were a child waiting for her father to walk through the nearby door to bid her good evening - an eager smile on his face that made his eyes squint due to his immense happiness. It felt wrong to bask in such a recollection in the presence of someone who seemed to be soaking up every moment they were experiencing, yet she could not help it. So much had happened to her within the past years that she feared she may be losing her mind. Was any of this real or just a figment of her imagination? Such a thought causes her fingers to grip the fabric of her dress, balling it up in one of her hands casually - it was a method she had to keep herself aware of her surroundings. With so much turmoil and pain experienced, one had to have a method of remaining grounded or their head would get lost in the clouds. A princess could never allow her thoughts to soar so high, they needed to stay as close to the ground as possible in order to keep herself leveled. She had found that was the issue with most princesses that lingered around court, they allowed themselves to dream too large - thinking they had the right to choose who they would love and what to do with their own lives. But they did not own their lives, royals never did, their lives were dictated by others on a constant basis and that was not likely to change in the near future. So, being the practical woman she was, Roslin tended to keep her dreams small, her goals realistic; except for her goal of regaining her throne. Perhaps that was what she allowed herself to dream for, like many girls she dreamed of something outside of her grasp, but it was not love. Love did not seem like such a prize after her late husband. She had loved once, had stars in her eyes whilst looking at her betrothed - she had even cried on her wedding day from pure joy. The two had a good marriage for a short time, but like everything else did, the happiness and love died within it. I wonder if love does truly exist or if we are all searching for something we will never find. Perhaps love was just something they were convinced to believe in, something they held onto to provide meaning to their dismal little lives. But she supposed it could be nice to find someone she loved, someone to care for her despite her faults - but who could love a monster.

Red rises in the young girl's cheeks as her gaze removes itself from his, slightly ashamed that he has fallen for her facade. She has done awful things, things even the Lord could not forgive, yet he thought her the innocent Princess from Saxony. "I appreciate the sentiment greatly, but I fear there is much you do not know about me... My life has not been as easy as you may think. Besides, I am a widow and men are wary to wed someone who is already tainted." She offers, a sigh absconding her lips that were now pressed into a tight-lipped smile. It still held a sweet aura to it, but there was an inkling of her true emotions contained within it as well. She was unlikely to find a very good suitor as an alliance with her would do someone little good. She was a widowed woman whose husband was murdered and she had been accused of committing it - that did not bode well for her when it came to finding another marriage. Besides, once word spread of her brother's betrayal of her, she was likely to find no man who would open his home to her as marrying her would be opening themselves to participating in a war. So many things she had concealed, so many things she harbored within her already tattered soul. How much weight could one woman bear? Could she shoulder the burden of the world or was she not near as strong as Atlas? So many lies and deceptions put weight on a person's heart - and her heart was already so fragile and frigid.

She, with the frequent taste of rain, swiped him off his feet; for her voice was warm and welcoming. He did not expect a princes to be as polite as such. He nodded deeply, agreeing with her words, valuing such loyalty all the same for the world lacked of it. A strange force drew him closer to her; for a woman wouldn’t stray outside in the middle of the night as it was raining. He wished to get to know this girl, and so he pleaded to God above; having her send this way at such late hour. A laughter escaped his lips as she questioned his drinking, and he batted his eyes; ashamed now she implied of him being intoxicated.

“No, ma'am. I swear.” The candle was about to vanquish, and so Leith rushed his feet to get to the cabinet nearby; knowing they always left some candles for the night. “There is no need to consume as much, for it is a wonderful evening and nothing is troubling me.” He was lying. Something was on his mind, but she didn’t have to know. Changing the candle for another, he threw her a glance as he went; his eyes twinkling, grateful for their meeting. “If you don’t mind me asking, Roslin,” he found it remarkable how she allowed him to call her by her first name for it seemed so trustworthy, “What brings you to court?” He turned around, leaning against the counter as he watched her from afar; her figure so small and fragile he felt drawn to cherishing it. Keeping it safe. “Marriage?” he continued. He drew his hands through his hair, drawing an apple from his pocket; taking a juicy bite.

A dusting of surprise crosses a delicate countenance, her eyes batting gently as she watches him, the world seemingly going slower than ever before. Surroundings felt warm, like home, a place where titles and birthrights held no power over her - she was free here, if only for the moment, speaking with a low-born man in the cellar of a large castle. She is grateful for this release, the feeling of being a normal person crosses over her, heat rushing through her frame. Is this what it is like to be free of the chains of royal blood? To walk and speak freely without fear of the cost of such things? Such thoughts bring a new perspective to her life, one she had not yet indulged in. Perhaps her throne was not as important as she once thought. No, power is all I have known, all my family has, I must remain strong. I cannot let these wild feelings of freedom go to my head. But there was a part of her that longed to stay in that cellar for an eternity, lighting candles and sipping sweet summer wine as they talked of life. Though she knew she could not, it was not the privilege of a Princess to do such things, besides, how could she lead her people from here? How could she protect her customs and morals while locked beneath a foreign castles floors? She had to stay focused. Yet, the way he said her name was so sweet and genuine - something that was as foreign to her as the soil her feet treaded over. He truly did remind her of her beloved Bash, how she wondered if the two were familiar.

"Ah, how very perceptive of you, sir. I suppose I have become just as predictable as the other royals here, how very unfortunate... I always used to like keeping French royals on their toes with my 'primitive' nature, but it seems I have started to fit in with your customs more than my own." She mentions as she moves towards the chair that was close by, taking a seat as her legs had grown tired. "I do hope that I do not become boring. It would be such a shame." She states as her eyes follow his movements, her hand moving to wrap around one of the neaby bottles, hoping it would be a sweeter wine. It was not often people in her country drank fine wines, that was why she had always appreciated the French's taste for finer drinks.

Though he would walk among the castle ground in formal and wealthy clothes on occasion, he seemed like a worthless pal now - making him feel quite uncomfortable. His trousers were brown and wrinkly; for his shirt too, which hung slightly to the side of his shoulders now some buttons were missing. Farmer clothes, really - though they tend to make him feel comfortable, normally. Right now he’d wished they’d met in the garden on a warm summer’s eve - barely a few beams of sunlight left, yet enough to make them two bloom from the others. But there was no such thing. And he was still just a guard. 

“It sure is, m’Lady. I’m honored to be asked by the King himself, for he calls me his friend.” His cheeks fluttered bright red; ashamed now he tried to show off in such cheesy way. While batting his eyes, he granted her a modest smile once she showed her gratitude. “No need,” he replied, rather quickly - looking her in the eye all the same. “It’s a great pleasure to meet you,” he paused once more - his lips curling into a smile as he finished, “Roslin.”

Her hair kissed her cheeks like flames licking tinder, and for a moment he felt like it was the perfect moment to stroke the tufts away from her eye. No matter, he didn’t - for they’d only just met, and he felt way too blessed already. The candle slowly drew out of fuel, so once the wax dripped down his hand he hissed in a startle. A soft laughter drew from his lips, and he looked at her once more - finding it far too hard to keep his lips from curling any further. “I went down here for some wine. -Not to intoxicate myself,” he added quickly, “but as a nice gesture to my own body for not giving up on me today. I’ve been rather busy…”

Truthfully, there was an ounce of shame resting beneath her clothing, beating wildly within her ribcage - confined by social expectations and norms, this is not within her element. So far, such an interaction was nothing like that of those before, completely and utterly eccentric in terms of life - but it was endearing, the way he smiled and offered her kindness, he seemed so entranced and bewitched by her even though she had just met him. His smirk seemed familiar, like a smile she had seen a million times before, ah yes, the way his eyes sparkled when he smiled reminded her of Bash. How could she have not noticed before? The same willingness to sacrifice himself for her, the look on his features that made it seem like she was the only thing he wished to see. She supposed it was a blessing to have found someone else who viewed her in such a light, but she wondered how he would feel if she told him of her past. If he knew of the darkness that trailed in her wake like an inescapable shadow lingering behind her at all times. A sister of Thanatos, she has lead many to their death and yet they still seemed willing to give into her whims, all because of her hair that was kissed by fire and her eyes like the sea. She was fire and ice, mixed together in an unstoppable combination - a woman any man could only dream up in his wildest imaginations, she was not something that should exist - yet there she was, standing before him, mere flesh and blood with power over those around her that seemed unnatural.

"I am sure you are a good friend to him, it is wise to have chosen someone so close to him to guard his brother... loyalty comes in short supply these days, he must value it greatly... I know that I do." She mentioned, her lashes dusting across her cheeks once more, a sweet smile painted across her visage. Perhaps it was wrong of her to act in such a way, a way that would welcome him into her life when it was so full of turmoil, but she could not help herself. There was something bitter about the loneliness that gripped at her throat while she strolled through French halls - how it tightened it's fingers every time she saw people conversing with one another. How she longed to have such a companionship with more than just one person at court. Maybe this man could offer that to her, to become a friend in a place where she found only few. She could use any alliances she could make if she was to regain what rightfully belonged to her. It was odd to always be thinking strategically, but becoming friends with someone close to the King could aid her in her campaign.

Once she stepped forward he bowed his head once more - unsure what to do now he experienced such encountering. Watching her taking off her hood, her small white fingers wringing along the hems, made him hold his breath. Coming to the conclusion she wasn’t just anyone, he smiled politely - if just a little uncomfortable with her finding him this way and visa versa. 

“Please,” he smiled - keeping his head held low, if just by common curtsy. “do not apologize. There is-” he stopped, knowing it would be rude to say such thing in such ordinary way. “You look beautiful, m’Lady. Though neither did I expect a princess to be awake at such hour. Especially not to stray in the rain, fragilely dressed. Though, please forgive me, for it is no insult.” 

He didn’t know where to put the candle, for he felt rude to keep it up high - exposing her figure. In a quick movement he took off his jacket, reaching it out for her to take if she so desired. “Please, I do not want you to catch a cold. I am Leith,” he paused, “Bayard. I am a-” he wished to lie, for each and every splendid woman he had ever met always ran away from him cause of his low stature, yet he couldn’t for he was no such man. “I am the Dauphin’s bodyguard. Prince Charles his.”

His compliment catches her off guard and her gaze falls from his face, heat rising within her cheeks. It is not often she receives such a thing from another, as people were wary of her since her husband's murder. Many still thought it had been her who had killed him, therefore they tended to distance themselves from her. She couldn't blame them though, they were trying to protect themselves from gossip. "Thank you... Though I believe neither of us belongs out and about, we should both be asleep, yet we are not. Perhaps it is meant to be as such." She stated, her lashes fluttering against her pale cheeks, eyes focused on the man's expression. She was unsure what point she was trying to make, but there was one in their meeting she was sure. Nothing was left to chance in their world, everything was meticulously planned out by someone who knew more than them - for some reason that higher being had decided the two should meet in such an eccentric way, so who were they to truly question it?

A hand moved towards her and she felt the need to step back, but she refrained from doing so - but she was still surprised by his kind gesture, a confused yet grateful look making its way onto her features. Her dainty hand reached out and grabbed hold of the fabric, bowing her head in thanks as she draped it over her shoulders. The warmth was welcome, a soft smile forming on her petal-like lips. "Ah, an honorable title, I am sure you do well at your job. I am Princess Roslin Konig of Saxony... But for now, you may call me Roslin if you like." She offered, her gaze rising to meet his again. She felt somewhat guilty for lying about still being a princess, but there was no need for the entire French court to know that she was banished. Besides, she planned on having her throne back before word traveled to the rest of the European continent.

Many bottles were stacked with one another, and Leith found it to become a hard decision; for he had so many choices in wine. After uncorking a few - taking a smell, discovering new herbs and whatnot, he picked out a velvet red wine; the scent of cinnamon making his head spin in a pleasant way. He felt no need to ask if he could take it, and so he took a sip once he picked up the candle - wishing to make his way out until someone rushed in. Within seconds he stood eye to eye with a lady; drenched by the cold autumn rain. Hearing her words slip from her lips, her body flinching at their meeting, Leith bowed his head - putting down the bottle of wine to gesture her to calm down. 

“I’m very sorry, m’lady. It was not my intention.” He frowned, finding her to walk in a dressing gown with just a cloak on top. “Are you okay though?” Tilting his head to a side he tried to get a glimpse of her face; unaware of the fact he was standing with a princess. “It’s not the best moment to go out for a night walk. Especially in…” he pointed out to her dressing gown, “these, m’lady.”

Small fingers move quickly to pull her wet cloak closer around her frame, water dripping from the hem of her dressing gown as she looked at the man. She hadn't met him before, but she recalled seeing him around the castle the last time she had visited. If she recalled correctly, he was special to the King for some reason - but the reason escaped her now. She, as always, was slightly apprehensive in regards to the man, since she was unaware of whom he truly was - a girl could never be too careful when meeting someone late at night - especially someone who was looking to drink.

The tone of his voice lessened her apprehension and she found herself taking a step forward so that the candlelight would lick across her features. With shadows falling in just the right place and light dancing across her fiery hair, there was no doubt in her mind he would recognize who she was. It was unlikely that there would be confusion since there were not many guests at court with hair such as her own.

"I'm alright, yes." Her tone was soft at first, her eyes holding no malice in them nor did they seem so cold and distant as they usually did. Her experience in the rain only moments ago had softened her to the things unfolding now. Perhaps if they had met in the daytime when they were strolling the halls along with everyone else, she would have distanced herself more - but to do so now seemed futile. She had to ensure that he would not go around spreading rumors about her later on.

"I told you Roslin, if you can't respect my decision to give the throne to another, I have no choice but to banish you... Guards take her away."