the resplendent

bridget parr, lady parr twenty-three daughter of the marquess of northampton

[fitzrxyal]

closed starter for @bridgctparr, the pageant

playing calliope had been exhilarating. nel had always thrived in court, but never had she taken such a grand part in events, the honorary mistress of revels, the guide of the captivated audience through the many delights put on by the ladies of the court.

and she herself had been delighted. nel was no stranger to the beauty of the feminine. she had thought of it, written of it, even shared some of it that night in her opening words, though nothing so transparent as to expose her heart. that was to be kept locked away, until this longing for bridget could be set aside. in the meantime, it was to bridget’s open arms and bright eyes that she would surrender herself, even if as only a friend.

still, she was joyful, for bridget never failed to inspire that within her.

“a clever speech you gave up there,” nel told her, as they moved through the room, arm in arm, “though i would expect nothing less from this evening’s peitho.”

[bridgctparr]

Nel was always a welcome companion, as she always seemed to know exactly what to say to ensure that Bridget stayed in a good mood. Bridget had been delighted to take the younger girl under her wing, as dangerous as that might be in the eyes of their fellow courtiers, and it pleased her greatly to see Lady Fitzroy enjoying herself at court once more. "Ah, but you, Calliope!" Bridget reached over with her free hand to give Nel's forearm a gentle squeeze. "You led the production with grace, the perfect Tudor rose. I have no doubt that your uncle the King must be pleased to count you among his relatives."

As they took a turn around the hall, Bridget's eyes could not help but fall on her aunt; her uncle by marriage was yet again absent from a glorious court event, and it seemed as though Alice had no qualms about attending in the arms of another man. "How nice it is to see our elders enjoying themselves," she remarked, a wisp of a jovial tone in her voice. "Do you suppose we shall be so happy in our advanced years, Nel?"

[malerholbein]

BRIDGET HAD ENTERTAINED HOLBEIN, at least from afar. Rather elevated in all of her moods, he did not understand how she could enjoy this so. He felt a headache coming on from the mixture of alcohol and loud music. "I am disillusioned with most courts, My Lady. The English have entertained me, yet have not stunned me." He was a man who preferred the continent. He had been many places in his short life time, and while William's court was splendid, Holbein had seen many splendid courts. "Have you ever been away from England, Lady Bridget? Paris and Rome are fine places, but I find myself more inclined to Athens. The Parthenon sits atop a hill looking over all of the city. Never have I been more stunned by an object's beauty."

[bridgctparr]

Her presence did not seem to stir him in the least, something that Bridget was not used to, especially when her company was an artist; those men were often quite open-minded, interested in dissecting the subjects before them. Though he could very well be doing so behind those entrancing eyes of his, she was disappointed that she could not see even a speck of it. "I have, I spent quite a few years at the French court in the service of Princess Elisabeth." Bridget leaned back in her chair then, her mind whirring. Did this man think the English so low that they were not worldly or well-traveled?

Part of her, the ever-curious child, wished to rain questions upon him regarding his travels, but that would be letting the gentleman off easy. "You dodge the question, sir. Tell me of the most beautiful night you can recall; you have piqued my interest. Never fear, I shall not report your words to His Majesty, should they have the potential to offend."

[princessedevalois]

Elisabeth could hardly help but smile, preening under Birdie's fawning affection. "Do you think so? I am terribly happy with how it came out. The needlework is so elegant." She gestured to her skirt, the fine silk threads that had been so carefully crafted by her mother's team of seamstresses. She could hardly deny that she took pride in her appearance this evening, her hair worn loose in fitting with the festive theme. "And you are simply stunning. I think red suits you well." Squeezing Birdie's hands, she beamed, a bit girlish. "It brings out the blush in your cheeks."

Stepping aside, she looked to her friend with a tender smile before gazing around them. "I know. It is quite remarkable - and such fun. I have scarcely enjoyed myself so much since I arrived here." The weight of anxiety which had hovered over her in the wake of the rumors about the late King's bastard son had turned court into a sour place, but the return of the King and his courtiers had breathed fresh air into the palace. "Will the goddess of persuasion be persuaded to dance with an old friend?"

[bridgctparr]

Bridget feigned shock, then nodded her head. "But of course I think so! You, Princesse, may be the most beautiful here...present company excluded." She offered Elisabeth a wink before glancing down to admire the gown more closely. The French had such a way with clothing - Elisabeth's ensemble was a work of art, even moreso than her usual attire. It was no wonder that more and more English women adopted the French styles as Anne Boleyn had when she was newly at court.

Her smile only grew wider to receive the compliment, for she knew such words from the princess were genuine and not mere flattery. "You are too kind. I think my father may have aged a decade when laying eyes upon me, but what does he know of ladies' fashions? Especially on such a night as this." At Elisabeth's invitation, Bridget released her hands and took a step backward before offering one again. "It would be my honor, Princesse. Shall we show my countrywomen how it is done?"

[malerholbein]

THE PERFORMANCE WAS BEAUTIFUL, stunning, even. Holbein could not deny that. Whoever organized it would have a splendid time bragging about it for the rest of their time in court as a courtier, or even for the rest of their life. Hans would have rather just sat there and watched it, until he had been forced to interact. Rather, the courtiers would rather talk to the renowned german painter. It was a sad reality that Holbein had found himself in, despite his royal paycheck that came in for every painting that he completed. While Hans contemplated his alternative life, Lady Bridget had came to investigate. "Ah, Lady Bridget." Hans said, taking a sip of his drink before he spoke again. "I am enjoying myself, yes. Though I would argue it is not the most beautiful night I have seen. I have lived thirty three years and painted many a queen. The pageant has many mights to live up to."

[bridgctparr]

Bridget regarded Holbein with a curious eye, her head tilted to the side slightly as she popped a candied fig into her mouth. He seemed altogether unimpressed with the displays of pomp and frivolity before him, as if he would rather be abed, staring at the canopy above his head rather than feasting his eyes on all that the court had to offer. He was quite the interesting man, indeed. "Do not tell me you have become disillusioned with the English court already." She licked a bit of sugar from her thumb, then deigned to take a seat beside him, detached as he appeared to be.

"Spin me a tale then, sir. What of your most beautiful night, hmm? Was it in Paris, or in Rome? In the company of others or locked up in your room with only a canvas for company?"

[bridgctparr]

& @malerholbein (@serholbein)

The evening was progressing splendidly; the ladies' performance had been a great success, eliciting whoops and cheers from the gathered crowd both during and afterward, to Bridget's great delight. The wine flowed endlessly and she partook with joy, raising her glass to the many toasts proposed by those who may have indulged too much as they sauntered about. There were those who did not seem altogether pleased to be in attendance and they kept to the outer corners of the room, engaging in quiet conversation with other who shared their views on the spectacle instead of daring to claim illness as an excuse, for who would want to insult the king by not showing their face at such a glorious event?

Elaborate candle displays kept the room alight, casting shadows over the faces of the attendees as the hour grew late. Many of the older crowd had since retired, leaving the young people of the king's court to continue to frolic about, music and voices just as loud as they had been when the room was full to bursting. As Bridget made her way across the room, plucking a sweet or two off of various tray, the court's celebrated painter caught her eye. He was sitting along, uncharacteristic for him as his attentions were usually highly sought after, as were all figures of genius. Bridget approached the man confidently, blocking his line of sight to the rest of the room. "You are not enjoying yourself, Master Holbein? I took you for a man who had a great appreciation for beauty; is tonight not the most beautiful you have seen?"

[bridgctparr]

& @goldsilked

Immediately upon her arrival to the French court nearly ten years earlier, Bridget had been struck by the grandiosity of the country and its people. For a girl of thirteen on her first venture outside of her home country, this was a transformative experience, allowing her not only to explore the intricacies of a different ruling family and culture, but the people who called France home. The French seemed to hold themselves above the rest, high standards in place in every aspect of their lives, but so much more free than the English on a daily basis. Henri and Caterina's court was prosperous, filled with the most beautiful and daring people Bridget had ever seen, taking part in actions and conversations that many Englishmen and woman would have tutted their disapproval toward.

Bridget had immersed herself fully into the court, serving as a maid of honor to the Princess Elisabeth and learning from the women and girls around her. Caterina's ladies were of particular interest to her, for they held the very heart of the French court in their grasp. Equal parts alluring and clever, Bridget could not help but be drawn into their web, intent on taking any offered wisdom to heart; she was now delighted to find so many courtiers she recognized in her homeland.

Madeleine de Limeuil was as stunning as ever - Bridget was certain that the woman had not aged a day since last she laid eyes on her. She could not help but smirk as she watched Madeleine cross the room, all eyes locked on her figure in the very provocative ensemble she wore with ease. "Lady de Limeuil, how pleased I am to see you here!" Bridget offered the French woman a genuine smile, though she could not help but feel a bit of trepidation fluttering in her stomach; she was not one easily intimidated, but she held Madeleine in high regard and had always desired to earn her respect and approval. "I know this event may pale in comparison to those you enjoy at home, but I hope you are enjoying yourself nonetheless."

[unconqucred]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒. closed to @bridgctparr 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. great hall, hampton court palace 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 & 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄. evening, 23 november 1559

all  of  king  william's  courtiers  gathered  in  the  great  hall  as  soon  as  the  sun  began  to  set,  buzzing  with  the  sensual  exhiliration  of  discarding  their  stuffy  court  fashions  for  those  of  the  ancients.  though  she  had  conspired  soberly  with  her  seamstress  to  create  her  raunchy  ensemble,  it  required  more  than  a  few  glasses  of  wine  to  put  the  thing  on,  and  an  additional  glass  to  leave  her  apartments.  like  night  herself  she  kept  to  the  outskirts  of  the  room,  sneaking  figs  off  of  their  platters  and  placing  them  promptly  in  her  mouth,  the  juices  bursting  into  her  mouth.  sibella  spotted  a  familiar  bundle  of  blonde  curls  accented  with  red  roses.  "mademoiselle  peithos!"  she  exclaims,  making  her  way  over  to  her.

"my,  my,  how  stunning  you  look,"  sibella  mused  giddily.  "you  and  your  seamstress  have  certainly  outdone  yourselves."  as  daughters  of  the  nobility  they  were  acquainted  with  the  other.  though  the  two  ladies  were  more  than  unalike,  bridget  was  her  unlikely  savior  during  her  brief  stay  at  the  french  court.  the  french  courtiers  were  heathens  and  hedonists  and  the  blonde  reveled  in  their  customs  but  her  blood  was  english,  and  that  was  solace  enough.  with  bridget's  guidance  she  navigated  the  french  court  with  less  friction  than  before,  and  were  it  not  for  her  nor  the  splendor,  she  would  have  recalled  her  time  there  even  less  than  fondly.  "now  tell  me,  my  lady  peithos,"  she  grinned,  interlocking  their  arms.  "see  you  any  fledgling  lovers  you'd  tether  together?  or  more  interestingly,  any  you'd  see  flung  apart?"

[bridgctparr]

There was nothing Bridget Parr loved more than a celebration; a crowd of people making merry into the wee hours of the morning filled her heart with joy, and when the pageant was announced, she had thought she might burst! Her choice of goddess was immediate, much to her father's chagrin, and she had met with her seamstress at once, sketching out the exact image she had pictured in her mind from the moment she made her decision. The thin fabric clung to her breasts and hips, the silk providing almost a second skin save for the wings of the knots tired about her shoulders and waist, secure enough so that nothing would budge as she performed a sensual dance conveying the passion of a pair of ill-fated lovers, but not so secure that they could not come undone if one were to make that their intent.

It took her a moment to recognize the younger Lady Percy, as the specific vision of Sibella that lived in Bridget's mind's eye was a more modest and reserved lady, but her eyes lit with delight when she realized that the other young woman had thrown herself into the theme head-first. "As have you and yours, Lady Nyx," Bridget replied, giving Sibella a nod of approval. "I must admit, I am suprised by your attire, but ever so glad to see you out of your shell! Perhaps the arrival of our French counterparts has inspired you?" She giggled lightly as their arms intertwined, placing her hand atop Sibella's. "The evening has only begun..." Bridget glanced about the room, musing upon Sibella's question. "I am most interested in whom might seek to tether themselves to you and I." She looked back to Sibella to gauge her reaction. "Shall I employ my talents on your behalf, Sibella?"

[bridgctparr]

& @princessedevalois

"You are a vision!" There seemed no other appropriate way to greet the Princess of France that evening; after bobbing a hasty curtsy, Bridget reached to take both of Elisabeth's hands in hers, giving them a gentle squeeze. "This shade of blue complements you perfectly, Your Highness. I would not be surprised if you received several proposals of marriage this evening." The princess was dressed rather demurely in comparison with the other ladies; Bridget herself had thought her attire to be rather risque, though even she could not compete with the fashions of Caterina de Medici's ladies. Among them, Elisabeth stood out like the jewel she was, commanding attention and indulgent looks while also upholding her virtuous image as one of the most eligible princesses in Europe. "Have you ever seen so wonderful a display, Elisabeth?" Bridget continued to chirp, her eyes dashing about the room to take everything in.

[bridgctparr]

LADY BRIDGET PARR AS PEITHO, GODDESS OF PERSUASION AND SEDUCTION

Ever one for pushing the envelope, Lady Parr arrives to the pageant draped in diaphanous red silk; the ensemble is held together by a series of strategically placed knots, most notably on the tops of her shoulders and around her waist. Front sections of her hair are pulled around to the back of her head, where they are joined by a single Tudor-red rose, while the rest of her curls flow freely down her back.

In the pageant, Bridget as Peitho serves as the representation of love and lust, pairing lovers together and pulling them apart, as those emotions often do.

Companion of Aphrodite

Represents sexual and political persuasion

Associated with the arts of rhetoric and charm

[elains]

Greek Mythology Meme // ᵗʷᵒ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿᶦᶠᶦᵉᵈ ᶜᵒⁿᶜᵉᵖᵗˢ ⁽¹/²⁾ • PEITHO

In Greek Mythology, Peitho was a close companion of Aphrodite, the goddess who personified persuasion and seduction.

[thmagdalene]

HOUSE PARR

The Parr household originate from Kendal Castle, which by 1559 lies in ruin and disrepair. Perhaps, if the Marquess tended to his roots or sent the wilderness of his offspring to see to its upkeep, then glory would once more hail from their mighty boughs. Till then, the reputation of the family's name lingers upon the new generation after the scandal spread from Alice's early years spent at court. Though the paternity of her first child is not spoken off publicly, it it clear that Arthur Seymour (now educated and tended to at court) wears a complexion not akin to his lawful father, and instead seems to mirror the visage of the Lord Privy Seal... Still, it seems that the Viscount Beauchamp accepted it long ago, at any rate, young Catherine still bears the resemblance of her parents with strawberry-blonde hair and pale features.

A more in detail family tree, here.

[semperanneboleyn]

She held in both cheeks, a checked sense of vehemence; the Parr's irritated her temper, and the request of Lady Alice to take charge of her niece, placed the child in sharp conflict between antagonistic impressions. This way came Bridget Parr now - in shape, in hue, a highly-couraged member of her dynasty. She approached; with little demonstration she announced herself, rising and waiting for a sweet word of response. The proposition was half-vexing, ludicrous; a Parr now, to be settled amongst her ladies. Perhaps Bridget sought refuge; where she could not outshine, she fled. Still, the child seemed quite cheerful - her qualities would feasibly be employed, in her service. "Your aunt has written to me, to bade me to accept you into my company - a distinct honour, I rarely bestow upon women of your young age. Is this a request of her devising, or do you earnestly wish to serve the crown, in lieu of enjoying the life of an unencumbered young lady?" 

Bridget's eyes at least, shot no morose shafts; unlike her kin, from her broke forth no irritability which startled ones calm. Anne addressed Bridget in tones only patient and firm; she had no desire to crack the polish of ice, coating the young lady. "If memory serves me correctly, your brother is already dutifully engaged, in a highly-distinguished role; has he enjoyed his service thus far, to the King?" 

[bridgctparr]

"My lady aunt wishes to see my time well-spent, Your Grace," Bridget replied carefully; the arrangement was, of course, suggested and put into motion by Alice...though Bridget did believe, despite her aunt's dislike of Anne Boleyn and the concept of her offspring, that the elder Parr woman truly did wish to see her niece succeed. That concept could not be easily explained, however, and she dared not delve into it lest the queen draw incorrect opinions of Bridget, for she truly meant Anne no harm. "She and my father, both, feel that it is time I commit to a cause higher than myself, and it would be a great honor to join Your Grace's household. I held a place in the household of Princess Elisabeth when I spent time in France years ago, therefore I believe I do possess the skills necessary to serve you."

Anxiety bubbled beneath the surface, an uncommon sensation for Bridget even when met with authority, but it was as if all of the expectations of the elder adults in her life had landed on her shoulders in that moment, pressing down on her from above. To combat this, she held her head high, speaking calmly in response to the dowager queen, more restrained than she had been in quite a while. "Beau is deeply grateful for his position in the king's household, Your Grace. he finds His Majesty to be a fine and just master." Without taking too long to think, Bridget acted upon instinct and took a few more steps toward Anne. "If I may, Your Grace...I understand the trepidation you may feel regarding my family name. I cannot speak for the thoughts and actions of my elders, but I would have you know..." She arranged her features into what she hoped conveyed an earnest expression, for she so seldom employed it. "I would have you know that my brother and I are ever devoted to the success and splendor of this court and house. For ourselves, we only desire stability and happiness."

[bdwilliamshakes]

He was perhaps careless and proud; but for a woman, he would be kneeling at her feet, pursuing her like a shadow. William could be repulsed with insult, and in turn, implore her with infatuation. It was tales of Bridget's romances, which caused that reserve in his manner towards her; as she spoke, these tales carried with them unmixed truth. Perhaps she herself had exaggerated, or invented her myths - he sought the chance of justifying her character, for veracity. William wondered if she were not flattered by all he bestowed her - she took it all, with a strange composure. Birdie was perhaps awed by him, but not towards mutism; she conversed modestly, without effort. He was charmed with her diction -- the accent pure, the assertions correct; tinged perhaps, with a bit of unexpected sweetness. 

   And the triumphant, pretty, haughty girl laughed; William could not discern all that she meant and could not ask her - he was bemused. Seeing however, the innocence  in her countenance - combined with an air of perverseness and petulance, he said at last, "Are reports then of your charms, exaggerated? Parr women are highly regarded, as unsparing Aphrodites." Birdie's dress of deep _ relieved well her lights curls, and exaggerated her petunia-like bloom. "Do you present me with a challenge, my lady, or an offer? I will gladly accept either; I shall make my bed comfortably amongst my well-selected rivals." He had given moments to thoughts and calculations of Bridget Parr; but to judge her, would be ti infer blame. It was his, which was a readily depressed, easily deranged temperament - before an eye of equal severity, he would stand more at fault than she. "A man who knows what he desires, is wont to court a myriad of appraisals; I shall not introduce you to my many detractors, who I fear will ruin any esteem I hold in yours eyes." 

 He could not help but render homage to the merits of Bridget; they were both pale, fatigued with overexcitement. "I can divulge only the barest of details - it would ruin any splendour of surprise, to be fully appraised of what is to come. As for the date of its completion? I hope to present it next spring, for its name will see it well suited, for the warmer months. It is a work unlike any other I have written; one of magic and love - though the two of course, are one in the same. I shall fashion you a queen or a nymph; what I uncover of your character, will seal your immortal fate. Do you believe in love, Bridget Parr? True love? This is the crux, of the part you shall play." 

[bridgctparr]

"I imagine reports of any lady's charms are exaggerated to an extent," Bridget quipped in reply, not wishing to explicitly divulge the fact that some time had passed since her latest conquest - whether the fault was hers or the presence of her family members at court was anybody's guess. There were plenty of ways for a lady to sort out her reputation in the eyes of many, and to the masses she neither confirmed nor denied anything...though perhaps in private conversation, with the right ear to indulge, her carefully built walls could begin to crack. "I shall be sure to tell my aunts you said so, they will be glad to know the tradition carries on." Bridget was more akin to Alice than her lady aunt dared to admit, the younger Parr often mused.

Bridget's eyes narrowed slightly, not in malice but in concentration, as she considered his question. "Oh but it is your choice, sir... Though if I were to hedge a guess, I would think you enjoy a challenge much more than a simple offer. Am I incorrect?" Though with only blooming status and no title to accompany his name, the bard beside her had already established quite the reputation for himself. It had not gone unnoticed to her that women and men alike fawned over him, inching towards him in a crowd to grasp but one moment of his time, to pull an opinion from the genius that was his mind. "Surely your detractors are few," she said in earnest, her meal forgotten for the moment as she focused on him. The details her gave her were few, but enough to light the spark of imagination in her mind, one that burnt for hours upon end in her childhood. "Magic and love," Bridget repeated, her mind daring to guess at what tales he might wind, intermingling the two concepts that he described as one and the same. "The court will like it," she stated with confidence, "for who does not enjoy such a tale?"

The concept that she might be immortalized in his writing, portrayed onstage in a flattering fashion, delighted Bridget to no end; if not for the scandal that would erupt, she would insist on taking the stage herself to portray such a lady fashioned by the man's genius. The smile on her lips, however, faltered at his question, the awe that he had swept her into all but disappearing from her visage. Never had a man asked her this so directly, not even her ever-indulgent and patient brother, who cared for her wishes as much as he did his own.

Did Bridget Parr believe in love?

She believed in desire, in adoration...she believed in lust and passion and yearning, feeling so deeply that one felt they might burst at the seams...Bridget relished those sensations, adored what they did to her mind and her body alike... but none of that was love. Perhaps, if she truly thought about it, Bridget did not know if she could believe that she was worthy of such a thing, capable of possessing such a deep romantic feeling without fear that it would not be reciprocated or thrown back in her face. And where did those thoughts come from?

Her brows drew together slightly and she suddenly became all too aware of her hand still covering his; she did not remove it, but glanced down slightly before her gaze re-lit upon his face. "You do. You really do, don't you?" she asked quietly, albeit mostly rhetorically. "I would like to. Though I cannot claim to know what true love is."

[beauregared]

one  would  be  hard - pressed  to  find  another  brother  as  devoted  to  his  sister  as  beauregard  parr  in  the  history  of  mankind  ─  from  the  moment  that  bridget  had  wailed  at  her  arrival  into  the  world  to  the  very  moment  she  pushed  through  the  doors  of  his  chambers  without  so  much  as  a  knock  to  announce  her  entrance,  prompting  him  to  startle  and  knock  over  a  pot  of  ink  over  the  letter  that  he  had  been  painstakingly  composing  for  one  of  the  ladies  of  court,  he  had  been  a  fool  that  pandered  to  her  whims  and  wishes  no  matter  how  nonsensical.  perhaps  his  overwhelming  indulgence  had  simply  been  an  attempt  to  occupy  the  space  that  both  their  parents  had  left  behind,  their  mother  with  her  death  and  their  father  with  his  grief,  plying  his  sister  with  games  and  gossip  and  sweets  to  keep  her  from  fussing  even  as  they  grew  into  adulthood.  the  groom  of  stool  had  only  one  flaw  in  the  eyes  of  the  lord  northampton  for  where  the  father  had  looked  at  bridget  and  seen  the  cause  of  anne  bourchier's  untimely  death,  the  son  had  only  seen  the  daughter  that  his  mother  had  so  desperately  desired,  remembering  his  promise  to  keep  bridget  safe  and  to  see  her  raised  to  live  and  marry  well  in  spite  of  her  motherless  state.

there  were  certain  things  that  only  their  aunts  could  handle  but  even  then,  he  had  fretted,  be  it  in  his  rooms  at  the  university  of  toulouse  or  his  chambers  in  hampton  court,  so  having  her  under  his  watchful  gaze  once  more  brought  a  sense  of  relief  to  the  elder  even  as  he  cussed  out  a  storm  under  his  breath,  sleeve  soaked  with  spilled  ink.  ❝  a  new  challenge  for  you,  sweet  sister.  ❞  holding  out  his  arm  to  display  the  stained  fabric,  he  raised  a  brow  at  her  petulant  state,  propped  up  against  the  pillows  as  though  she  were  a  child  of  five  rather  than  a  woman  grown  ─  the  sight  brought  a  begrudging  smile  to  his  features,  brightening  the  mischief  with  something  warm  and  paternal.  ❝  i  am  certain  our  beloved  aunts  have  taught  you  how  to  fashion  a  shirt.  make  me  a  new  one  and  i  will  consider  it  payment  for  the  one  you  ruined.  ❞  he  would  wear  it  upon  his  torso,  no  matter  how  misshapen  her  attempts  might  prove  to  be,  if  only  to  please  her.  rising  from  his  small  writing  desk,  beauregard  strode  over  to  the  bed,  perching  at  the  foot  so  that  he  might  push  at  her  booted  feet,  rubbing  dust  into  his  sheets.  

❝  alas,  no  news  that  is  meant  for  the  ears  of  little  birdies.  ❞  knowing  bridget,  she  could  be  persistent  enough  to  wheedle  the  information  out  of  him  eventually,  but  unfortunately  for  her  state  of  boredom,  he  feared  the  king  more  than  he  feared  his  sister.  ❝  though  you  might  find  some  delight  in  the  news  that  there  will  be  more  festivities  come  yuletide  ...  you  will  stay  here  with  us,  yes  ?  i  am  sure  you  have  made  more  than  a  fair  share  of  friends  though  if  any  of  those  are  of  the  opposite  sex,  i  pray  you  do  not  tell  me  their  names  for  i  shall  be  entreating  them  to  a  duel  for  your  honor  come  morning.  ❞  even  as  he  spoke,  he  levelled  her  with  a  stare,  inviting  her  to  share  her  conquests  in  friendship  and  in  love,  if  only  so  he  could  know  which  gentlemen  of  court  to  watch.

[bridgctparr]

"You are a bit jumpy, aren't you?" Bridget commented in quite the mater-of-fact tone, ignoring that her entrance was the impetus for such a reaction. She shifted slightly on the bed, adjusting one pillow or another behind her head so that she was comfortable, but at an angle appropriate for keeping her brother in view. Her golden ringlets fanned about her, casting a halo-like glow around her ever youthful and pretty face. "Make you a new one?" she echoed, aghast. "A man of your position, the closest to the king's person at any given time save a young lady he might take to his bed, requires his sister to replenish his wardrobe?" She shook her head at him in faux-disbelief; domestic tasks were not her strong suit nor her pleasure, but they both knew that if he truly wished it, she would comply. "To whom are you writing so intently, hmm? Should you require Master Shakespeare's assistance in wooing, I can imagine he would be all too eager to oblige." Were she not reclining so comfortably, Bridget might have risen and crossed to his desk, daring to peek at the correspondence before he had the chance the whisk the parchment away. "How interesting that Father would see me married, yet you are to do as you please. Are you afraid I shall scare away your future betrothed, sweet Beau?" The Parr siblings were both ripe for the picking, blessed with becoming looks and an old family name - it was only a matter of time until they found themselves wed to partners of their father's choosing, unless they dared exercise their own wills.

A pout clouded her ever-bemused expression. "Not a thing? I thought the royal family was supposed to be interesting, Beau, their days filled with scandal and intrigue. The French certainly did not disappoint in that regard." The French almost seemed to encourage it, in fact; at least members of their court were now present in England to liven things up. "Of course I shall stay! I do not wish to be anywhere else during such a season, nor do I wish to be far from you. We shall feast and dance to our hearts' content! You, me, and our friends." She pushed herself up from the pillows then, swinging her feet around to dangle off the bed as she laid on her stomach, her cheeks propped up by her hands. "I am summoned to see the queen in the morning," she revealed, though she would not have been surprised if he already knew, whether due to his position or through their lady aunt. Big blue eyes gazed up at him then, revealing the tiniest bit of apprehension. "Aunt Alice wishes for me to find a position at court, presumably so she does not have to worry about me so. What say you, brother? Will Her Grace have me? And if she should, will I be happy in her service? I wish to make our family proud, but you know how I detest being held under lock and key."

[bridgctparr]

& @beauregared

The was no living soul, man or woman, whom Bridget loved so well as her brother. It was his smile that had greeted her when she awoke in her cradle, his arms into which she took her first steps, his name the first distinguishable word to cross her lips. Never was a brother so adored by his sister, of this she was certain, though her aunts' love for her father might prove a close second. Despite their age difference and scattered years of time apart throughout their childhood and early adulthood, Beau remained the single most important figure in Bridget's life and was not remotely capable of doing any wrong. He sought to be her guiding light, but indulged her chatter and antics with more patience than he ought to possess.

As Groom of the Stool, Beau had the honor of living in close proximity to the king, which might have made seeing him more difficult if one did not have the tenacity of Bridget Parr. The guards in this wing of the palace knew the lady upon sight, and so removed any obstacle to her entering as soon as her blonde head was spotted rounding the corner. This afternoon, she offered her signature smile and nodded slightly, then pushed open the door to her brothers chambers before either gentleman could do it for her. When the door latched behind her, Bridget made a beeline for her brother's bed, making herself comfortable amongst the pillows as if she were a small child again. "Pray, brother, what news have you? Please regale me with some entertainment; I adore dear little cousin Cathy, but I am starved for real conversation. Her dolls do nothing but fuss over their dresses."

[bridgctparr]

& @semperanneboleyn

The journey to Dover had provided a welcome respite for Bridget; outside of the watchful eyes of her aunt and father, and with her brother occupied by more important matters, she had been free to flit about to her heart's content. Her laughter had been heard floating above the din of the crowd at nearly every gathering, so delighted was she to be socializing among courtiers English and foreign, basking in the frivolity of a social retreat, at least on her part. Negotiations seemed to be going well, as she could only surmise by the jovial mood of the king and those close to him; Bridget even thought she had seen Queen Mary crack a smile.

When they returned to Hampton, however, it was not long before responsibility appeared on her doorstep. Bridget had been summoned to an audience with the queen, which either meant that Alice's request was about to be granted, or the dowager wished to complete an evaluation of the Parr girl before she made her final decision. It would be an honor to serve the queen, Bridget knew, and would give her an edge over other ladies when it came to matters of her future; it would also provide Alice with a direct line into Anne's household, which Bridget suspected was the real reason her aunt pushed for this placement.

She went as she was bid, for nobody kept the queen waiting, and did feel a bit of apprehension building before the doors to the queen's presence chamber opened before her. Bridget planted a pleasant look upon her face and slowly crossed the floor to the dowager, sinking into a curtsy when she was an appropriate distance away. "Good morning, Your Grace. You wished to see me?"

[fitzrxyal]

"oh not displeased at all,” nel responded, “i find plenty joy in travelling, and cannot object to the coast at all. dover is an icon of our fine country, after all.”

in truth, the scenery mattered far less to nel than the persons arriving. it had been interesting to meet her only paternal cousins at court, but none held her interest like her elder aunt, mary tudor, the spanish queen. she alone among henry fitzroy’s siblings had met him, even briefly, even in the vaguest of ways, and that had raised her up in a mythical sense within nel’s mind. whether or not she was interested in nel mattered not.

she knew why the parrs and the seymours were interested in mary tudor, and she wanted no part in it. nel had her loyalties, was set stubbornly in them. she loved william as an uncle, a brother, a king. for all that mary tudor fascinated her, any queenly intrigue around her was a step too far. nel was not certain where bridget’s loyalties would lie, when it came down to it, but she knew that alice seymour would hear of all that happened, even as far away as she was in hampton court.

“very a little, though it might surprise you. i was too young when my aunt married to have known her. i am sorry not to have better gossip for you,” nel smiled, half teasingly, “you are correct about the resemblance though. you could spot a tudor halfway across a room, though you might struggle to tell who you were looking at.”

[bridgctparr]

Despite the cold, Bridget could not argue against Nel's point. The allure of waves lapping against land had lured her to the edge of the cliffs upon her arrival, though her aunt's voice echoed in her head as a mother's would, warning her not to get to close should she find herself tumbling over the side. She let out a light sigh at Nel's answer, slightly annoyed at the lack of gossip the fell from her lips. Lady Fitzroy was a sweet girl and very intelligent, due partly to her Howard and Tudor blood, but also to her nature. Bridget was in no way trying to trick her into anything, but would have appreciated a bit more than pleasantries.

"Come Nel, I mean you no harm. I am curious, is all. The Queen has not set foot on English soil since her marriage, do you not find that sad? To leave your homeland and never have the opportunity to return?" Granted, King Henry had made his bed and had no choice but to lie in it; Birdie could not help feeling some sympathy for Mary, which seemed silly considering the fact that she was now a monarch herself. Bridget caught the other woman's eye, then tilted her head towards a group of gathered Spaniards. "What do you think of them? Should the king and his sister's endeavors prove fruitful, I imagine many of her people will stay in England."