･ ♱¨|| GLORIA DEUS

xhheavensent‌:

“One can not blame a soul for love and devotion to their own country. If anything, it should be considered a positive attribute.” The Archduchess of the Empire had returned to the gardens to find the same roses she had been gifted by her husband on the day of the festivities, in order to replace the withering ones in her chambers. She did not yet want to face the idea of having to remove them all, this hopeful attempt of his to make amends. Gladly she would cling on to any beacon of hope she could take a hold of for now. 

She had not expected to find many in the garden, even though the weather was perfectly wonderful for an afternoon stroll. Like many places of the palace, walking it’s paths had a bitter aftertaste to it. The guards that accompanied the princess certainly seemed to think so as well. She was more heavily guarded than the Duchess herself, but she understood the precaution of the English. Certainly, they did not wish to lose another. Let alone their beloved princess. “Homesickness is but a natural feeling, though I myself find comfort in the fact that every member of my family is present here. - Care to tell me, your highness, what you miss most of England?”

     🌹 to be in the presence of the future empress of the holy roman empire wasn’t something that margaret thought of happening. yes, the empire and england were allies in the war, but margaret was a mere princess royal of a country that only now was gaining notoriety in the foreign courts. yet, she managed to smile, even if she was feelings nervous. ❝  yes, i must agree with you, your imperial highness. it’s the land God predestined to us, we need to appreciate it. ❞  margot wasn’t a firm believer of this, but she was used to say things just for courtesies. 

what she missed more about england was a thing that margaret couldn’t express so loud — the rumours still pursued her and many ministers of her mother were still suspicious. yet, she wanted to meet in person the archduchess’ daughter, augusta of styria. it wasn’t easy to find noble women near her age — for most of her life, margaret was content to have older friends. ❝ to be honest, your imperial highness, i don’t know if i can put into words. maybe it’s the atmosphere ? knowing that i’m with my people. but i also agree with you. i was the last one of my fmaily to arrive, it’s good to be with them again. ❞

The archduchess did not know rather the girl was truly a devoted catholic, or just taught well to say the right things in formal conversations, but either way her phrasing sparked the woman’s curiosity. It was true that the English had mostly squabbled over matters within their own border over the many years, and it’s court held one too many rumors of unholy practices, but Louisa regarded every single ally as important to the succes of her own future empire. If they found themselves truly loyal to the cause of her nation, they would certainly help build and expand it further. - Louisa nodded in agreement to the young princess’ statement. Understanding the longing to see familiar shores again, to feel the soil of the country where one was born, even when it had been so long since she had touched it. 

A smile curled the edges of the raven-haired woman’s lips as the princess royal failed to describe in color and detail what this thing was that she longed for. And yet, at the same time she phrased it perfectly. At times, one could not truly pinpoint what it was that they longed for. It was nothing in particular, and at the same time everything at once. In full honesty, Louisa did not care for a detailed description. For she did not wish to understand the girl’s country, she wished to understand her. To assess if she was anything like her parents. If she showed the potential like few others did when they were her age, to be brighter than the common folk that simply fell in line and spend their days sowing away. If the girl had any of her mother’s fire, such mindless tasks would certainly not be her favorite pastime. “Sometimes it feels like a relieve to be rid of one’s family for a little while, to break free from a routine and explore a new side to things. Time will teach us though, that the current in the stream that is our life’s flow, will away bring us back to our roots. We are all at our best when we are united, even if at times we can not see it.” 

“Apart from the homesickness, are there parts to your stay in Switzerland that you do find enjoyable?”

It had been a surprise to receive a gift from the Archduchess, for he had almost forgotten how people had seen him in the flurry of emotion. At first, he had felt confusion, but soon humiliation dawned - for she had seen him at his rawest, his flesh pulled away from muscle and bone to reveal the pump of his heart and the cry of his tears. He wondered, would she pity him all the more to see him still son-less? To see him post-burial and post-murder, yet without a name to put towards the death of his son? Patrick grimaced, and yet, he went to meet her. If he was to remain stoic ( especially since he would soon enough be crowned King of Scotland ), he would have to refrain from emotion and embarrassment to meet her. To smile and bow with a grace refined as a prince, but it had been a while since he had simply been a prince. For so long now, he had always been a consort. 

He approached on his own, a single guard lingering by a distance only for formality as he pushed the door open to reveal himself. Dressed with warmth in mind, Patrick lowered his eyes and bowed deep for Louisa, his hand taken from his head. He knew his status, he knew where he belonged. He was beneath her, as he was beneath many, in fact. 

“Archduchess, I was overwhelmed by your invitation. Pray to tell, what have I done to deserve such a proposition?” Patrick asked, before lowering himself into the seat by her side, his felt hat placed back upon his crown as he looked instead to the pond. Beneath the short hair of singed embers on his cheeks, Patrick thought back to the last time they had met. How embarrassing it had been, but how pure it once was, too. With mixed emotion, he muffled a sigh and turned to conceal the flush of his cheeks. “I must also apologise for when we first met, your grace. You did not deserve that…” 

It was not long before the doors of the garden house were pushed open and the Prince of Scotland revealed himself. Even though the Archduchess had not doubted rather he would delight her with his presence, she was still appreciative of the time he took off his schedule to meet with her. Certainly, the amount of duties and meetings to attend had grown since the announcement was made that he would soon be crowned king. - Louisa rose from her chair. Her dark hues studying him, quick but with care, as he bowed down before her with the grace of a swan. “Please rise, Lord Steward, and be welcome. I am thankful that you have accepted my invitation to join me today.” the Archduchess spoke warmly, before she returned to be seated once more. Gesturing at the Englishman to make himself comfortable as well, before ordering her servant to fill his goblet with wine. “You needn’t apologize for the way you behaved on our first meeting, your highness, for I already told you that you were excused for your actions then. They were fully understandable, given the loss you had suffered that day. Any man who would dare to suggest otherwise, thinking he would act any different, is a fool and a liar. One can only admire the strength you have show, and the purity of your heart.”

“I invited you here because I wished to express my deepest condolences for your loss, for the last time we spoke one another it was a message lost for good reason.” Louisa bowed her head and let a silence fall in the room for a few moments. Paying respect to he who had fallen. Not letting her condolences pass as a simple formality, but a true sign of respect and faith, before she continued to speak. “ - But it is not the only thing. With your consent, I would also like to make a toast together. To a new dawn, a new beginning, and to look forward to a brighter and peaceful future. One where the Lord may give us strength and guide us, and lead us down a path of shared victory. In whatever shape or form it may come to us.”

post  count  this  week  (   11/04 to 23/05 )  :  n.  of  replies  (  5 )  points  count  :  5 + 1 bonus point  = 6 points  in total point  allocation  :  Intelligence +3, wealth +1, Influence +2 health  total  :  77 /  150.

New count:  

influence : 17

intelligence : 17

wealth : 16

luck : 10

Louisa averted her gaze, directing it to the window so no one could see the anger and desperation that lit up her dark eyes. It was a sign of weakness perhaps, or a sign that the Holy Roman Empire no longer stood united as one. But was it not obvious to any outsider looking in that the walls of all that they had build were crumbling due to the foolish and awful decisions made by her father-in-law. No matter how much land he had conquered in the name of the lord, there was nothing holy about him. He deserved nothing more than the eternal fires of her, but she feared that he would drag others with him before his passing. Especially her son...

“I swear, on the Holy Cross, that I will not hesitate to end the man’s suffering on earth if he but dares to lay a finger on my children. He will have to go through me before he can harm them, so help me God.”

“Naturally, naught will be decided without my husband having a say on the matter, but I have had my eyes set on suitable matches for some time now. It is without question of course, that both of my children must be wed to one probably God-fearing and with the intention to attribute to the greatness of the Holy Roman Empire. They are worthy of the crown and glory they we born to inherit. Those who stand beside them must be worthy of the same.” The Archduchess paused, tracing her fingertips over the edge of a fresh piece of parchment. Unwilling to reveal yet the written piece of paper that was underneath.  “Augusta’s suitable match is still an uncertainty, but two come to mind when I think of who might fit besides my beloved son. His grace the Archduke might disagree, but I do not wish to see Lukas besides a docile woman. It takes more than timidness and compliance to wield great power. - True, they need some refinement, but I see great potential in Agnieszka of Poland and the Princess Royal, Margaret of England.”

Since the unfortunate accident, no murder, that brought the death of the secret Scottish heir, the Archduchess had hardly seen the English Prince Consort. Let alone that she had spoken to his highness about the passing. Their last meeting had been surreal, memories clouded by a haze of emotion and rush of how it all had unfolded. By no means had it been a reflection of the Prince Consort’s true self when he had entered the alliance’s castle, roaring like a wounded, feral beast in drenched clothing. -It was perhaps unjust how she had prioritized other matters over his well-being that day, after he had calmed, and put the care for the broken man in the hands of others but it did not mean she would abandon her duty. In her eyes, it was her duty after all to put her own needs aside to show her support to those who had shown their support for the Holy Empire, and continued to do so after all the horror. It was also her duty as a mother herself, to support those who had tragically lost their children. If the wheel of faith had spun differently that day, if God’s had made another decision on who to call to his side, perhaps she would have been the one who had been left grief. 

Louisa had a bouquet send to the Lord Patrick’s room days before, composed of red and white roses and thistle. Uniting all the symbolized the Prince Consort’s beloved homeland, as well as the English nation, as a symbol of sympathy. With it came a simple invitation to join her for a meal in one of the garden houses near the large pond on the castle grounds. Even if it had not been formally accepted, the Archduchess did not doubt rather he would grant her his presence. 

So she waited patiently. Gazing out of one of the many window of the garden house at the pond, as one of her servants poured her a glass of fine red wine. There were very few moments where the monarch could grant herself a moment rest, other than the ones she spend on her knees in prayer, so she took full advantage of the moment while she could. 

open starter to all. 

  🌹 the feeling of the warm wind was welcomed by margaret with open arms. it wasn’t the same feeling when being in the back of a horse, but she still could enjoy a little walk in the neutral grounds. she felt safier there than in castelgrande — she just hoped that the other coalization didn’t have a mad king like emperor nero and decided to start a fire in the enemy castle. yet, the english guards were following her close, in case someone tried to do harm to her. that person would be a fool, in margaret’s eyes, but she tried to enjoy her time alone without worries. hands clasped in her lap, she started to walk again, going deeper into the gardens. ❝ am i the only finding this to be beautiful, but not as beautiful as my homeland ? i barely arrived and already am homesick, uh ?  ❞

“One can not blame a soul for love and devotion to their own country. If anything, it should be considered a positive attribute.” The Archduchess of the Empire had returned to the gardens to find the same roses she had been gifted by her husband on the day of the festivities, in order to replace the withering ones in her chambers. She did not yet want to face the idea of having to remove them all, this hopeful attempt of his to make amends. Gladly she would cling on to any beacon of hope she could take a hold of for now. 

The past events, in which the whole court had witnessed the wrath of God with death and despair, where still fresh in her mind. They gripped her in her sleep and refused to let go of her mind. Creeping back in at the most unfortunate of times. She had long concluded that Switzerland brought her nothing more than misery and continuous anxiety. She feared not for her own life, for at times it had felt almost fulfilled, but for that of the ones she loved. An emotion that brought conflict, as the presence of her family was the only few sources of light she could still see. And now it was not only her intimidate family that surrounded her. 

Since the attack, the Portugese had started to assemble at the Swiss court. People she held very dear and close to her heart, but did not have the fortune to see very often. And now they were all gathered in a single place, but one that left a bitter taste in her mouth. 

“if you ask me,” Sebastião began. Nobody had, of course, but that was beside the point. The Prince was ever-fond of giving his opinions, whether they were welcomed or not. Of course, he was totally under the impression that everybody wanted to hear what he had to say. He had always been beloved, the sort of person who everybody had always paid attention to, and that sort of attention was a breeding ground for arrogance- something Sebastião possessed in spades. “I don’t think anything else can possibly happen here. God would not strike out at us a third time.” In all his life, he had never been inconvenienced so many times in such a short space of time. It was most irritating. 

The Archduchess looked up from her plate, directing her gaze in the direction of her dear nephew. Undoubtedly he had noticed her picking at her food, moving it from one side of the plate to the other. For weeks, she seemed at a complete loss of appetite. Not even the fish, which was one of her favorite dishes, could make her feel the slightest bit of hunger these days. Louisa straightened her back and pulled her shoulders back, correcting her posture to a regal demeanor as she smiled lightly at Sebastião. “I pray that you are right,  querido sobrinho. For I fear I could not bear another punishment of our Holy Lord.” she attempted to speak in a more calm fashion, refusing to show the emotions that come boiling through her veins at the thought of it alone. She had seen too many allies lose their loved ones on a single day. The thought alone that she could perhaps lose one of her children, like the prince consort had, was a thought she simply could not bear. With them, her will to live would certainly die as well. She did not want to think of it. 

“I am certain He hears our prayers, an we must continue to act in his name if we do not wish to face his wrath. The wedding between the German girl and the heretic prince, as well as her conversion, could not have been a good thing, so we must show him that most of us are still true and heed his words. -” she paused, as last picking up a piece of potato from her plate and putting it in her mouth. “- But no more talk of tragedy and heresy. I wish to talk about our beloved house of Braganca‌. How is my brother? And how have you and your siblings been faring?”

While the Duke of Barcelos followed the duties of his religion, it had become more a way of life than actual devotion by belief. The death of his wife had tested him, but the pillar and foundation of his piousness had also been her and over the years his faith had not passed nor failed the test. He was tested now again with the passing of his son but Guilherme did not care much for the test. Instead, he followed tradition and customs with the small hope that they made some difference but took no comfort from the higher likelihood that they did not. 

And so, for the sake of his children more than himself, he let them know he’d be going to the chapel. He made his way in no rush and without conviction. It was but a simple stroll that would end with pleasant quiet and stillness he did appreciate from such a place. 

“Your Highness,” he bowed reverently and quickly added, “I hope I am not interrupting your prayer.” The Archduchess had become a great pride for Portugal, not only because of her marriage to an Archduke of the Holy Roman Empire but also because she had grown up to be a very fine woman worthy of her status. Guilherme would dare say, perhaps even a more worthy leader than his odd friend. 

“It would seem God has decided to test all guests before war begins,” he commented in a manner most aloof, “some would say he works in mysterious ways, yet I find I disagree.” 

Louisa had always found comfort in the presence of those whom she still considered her countrymen. Her marriage tried her to the Holy Roman Empire perhaps, as well as her upbringing at the center of it’s power, but she would not forget that the blood that rushed through her veins tied her to Portugese soil. Her journey to the castle where she saw the first light as a babe once every five years proved this, as well as those she kept in prayers.  

The last time they had seen one another was after the passing of the beloved queen of Portugal. Her own sister-in-law and the Duke’s sister. Misfortune followed him, it seemed, and Louisa could only wonder why the lord would test the man so. He was not deserving of holy punishment, so it was certain that the man was destined for something greater. If only he did not have to sacrifice all that was so dear to him. First his sister, followed by his wife and recently his son. It was a cruelty of faith which he in no way deserved. “Thank you for asking, your Grace, but I had just finished my prayers to the Holy Lord moments before you entered. There are times I just sit there for a moment longer to enjoy the silence. It’s kind and nurturing for the soul, rather than these lies and schemes that are thrown at us with every turn we take. - Shall we sit, or would you like me to leave me to your prayers?” There were few things Louisa would be denied audience for, but if a good man wished to pray he should be allowed to do so. Even the most mighty of kings would not hold a candle to the might of the Holy lord.