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MARITA & ÉLISABETH ! 

      the alter candles seemed to dance in the queen’s gaze — now blurry from all her reverie. its flames seemed to mock marita with every wavering flicker, flourishing themselves in her face, as if to say the flesh of this chapel could unearth the wavering flicker of faith that still remained — lingering in deep, weeding roots inside of her ; she cleared her throat. the little sovereign never did like churches.

      “ i have spoken to god so rarely, i do not think he would know who i was. ”

❛ i will tell you a secret, ❜ the blonde queen leaned in towards the other, a soft smile on her face. ❛ i didn’t start praying until the night the doctors informed me of my son’s illness. i spent three days at the side of his crib, praying. ❜ she didn’t give a resolve to that story, élisa only continued in saying, ❛ i find that i am only partial to churches because they seem to be the only place where others understand i would like to be alone. it is nice to be able to sit in one’s owns thoughts for a time. ❜

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AZRA & ÉLISABETH !

travelling with an infant was not advised as they tended to easily be irritated especially if the travel was far but still, the sultana could not bear the thought of leaving her two children behind with the exact date of their return unclear. the sultana cradle the babe in her arms as she walked to the gardens, occasionally bouncing him and humming to help him calm down.  “Mustafa look at the flowers, they are lovely are they not?” she kissed his head as she turned him around to gaze upon the colourful buds, in the hopes of calming him down. “he did not like it inside, i was hoping maybe he’d like some fresh air,” azra explained to the other with a small polite smile.

élisabeth’s first instinct, upon seeing the crying babe, was to cradle him to her own chest as sing him a lullaby that she used to sing to her own son. if she focused and closed her eyes, for just a moment it felt like she could still feel his weight in her arms as she sung to him. the blonde kept her hands to her side, though, fists clenching her large blue skirts as she wills the tears to leave her eyes. as much as she wants, prays, and begs god for it to be, the little boy in the other woman’s arms is not george. 

❛ he is a beautiful baby, ❜ she told the other, unclenching her fists and gently running her hands over the previously balled fabric. ❛ i am sure, once he settles into some kind of routine, that he will be a much happier boy. ❜ élisabeth resisted the urge of drawing too close. if he had been marcella or ilaria’s child, she would have already had the boy in her arms. but this woman’s child was not hers to hold close.  

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HELENA & ÉLISABETH !

♦      this time is meant to be a period of fresh beginnings, drawing up alliances with trade offers or new marriage deals, figuratively burying their hatred for one another and moving forward into better times. what pleasant words, except she finds it excessively difficult considering these strangers and acquaintances have spent the past year killing her men. she is so preoccupied searching for her siblings, she nearly topples over as she bumps into another.  “ you have my deepest apologies, ” she offers the other without yet making eye contact as she quickly readjusts the top layer of her crimson gown. 

the smaller felt rather lucky to be caught by one of her ladies. with the queen in such a fragile state, her ladies seemed to be hovering closer than usual and in this instance it provided useful. looking up at her sister in law, the blonde could feel her teeth grit for just a moment. however, it was helena and the insincerity would be brushed aside in favor of being kind to her husband’s sister. ❛ think nothing of it, helena. thomas will be happy to know that we have run into one another. quite literally, as it were. ❜ 

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THOMAS & ÉLISABETH !

        many of his days were often spent pondering, wandering around windsor castle or any of the other strongholds used by his family. despite being in a different country, thomas’ habits remained the same. he strode through the large open drawing room, soft fingers tracing borderlines on maps displayed on the various tables. he could still see the indentations from where pawns used to stand and it made him uneasy. how recent it had all been. he heard the other’s footsteps approaching and turned his head. “you do not disturb me. please,” he gestured into the room. “is it me you wished to see?”

❛ i have not seen you since early this morning, i only wished to see how your day has been, ❜ élisabeth told him, a soft smile on her face as she entered the room. the blonde’s curls seemed to sway of their own volition, swaying gently as she moved to be at her husband’s side. her hand gently rested on top of his as she rested the side of her face on his upper arm. she was so petite in comparison to him and her pregnancy did nothing more than start to accentuate just how short she was in comparison to those around her. ❛ the other queens are kind, but after a while the conversation seems to become quite repetitive about the beauty of the flowers and the gentility of the collective. ❜

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ADAM & ÉLISABETH !

the king hummed in agreement — clearly pleased with his new location for the next weeks, or maybe years from what he’s already seen. “ this is definitely an improvement than sleeping on the ground in a middle of a war. ” as the line fell out of his mouth it only took him a second to regret that, realizing it might offend the wrong person. 

❛ i wouldn’t know, ❜ the small queen told him softly, a smile on her face. she could see the darkness in her husband’s mind, when he awoke in the middle of the night with terrors of war clouding his vision. she understood the want to find light in a frightening situation and why the other elected to find humor of his previous situation. ❛ but i could imagine that the ground is never comfortable. have you seen the library here ? the chairs in there are almost as comfortable as the beds. ❜ 

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presenting her royal highness, élisabeth delacroix, the queen of england ! anyway, hello, my name is hannah, i’ve been working on this for fifteen hours and it’s honestly not the best. please love me, love my daughter, and love me as i work on ilaria’s introduction.

TRIGGER WARNINGS FOR: mentions of miscarriage and death.

élisabeth sabine delacroix is the youngest of the four french children and the apple of her mother’s eye. her softness and gentle nature was manicured by a queen who believed her daughter would seal a great alliance between france and england during the great war. 

known affectionately by her family and close friends as élisa, she married the english king at the tender age of seventeen in a proxy ceremony in france before it was declared safe for her to be transported to england and coronated queen on english soil. 

though she has been married to the english king for four years and stepped up as queen the moment she arrived, she was significantly sheltered during her childhood when war broke out when she was eight.

as the youngest child of the french monarchy, élisabeth grew up with a very entitled and sheltered world view. she was only ever taught in theory, not in practice. her empathy and charm is manicured to appeal to courtesans, not to the common person.

however, since her time in england has begun, she has made a large effort to become more involved in the simple man’s life. she wants to be remembered for doing good in this country that has taken her in and made her their queen.

she honestly can’t tell if people sympathize with her or if they despise her, because she has lost one baby to a miscarriage and another to a sickness about three months after he was born.

the ache in her heart is still there, but on the whole she definitely feels as though she needs to be as strong and level headed as possible now that she’s four months into her third pregnancy.

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an élisabeth sabine delacroix tag dump !

‹ ✦ ˚ ❪ élisa: aesthetic. ❫ · she tastes like imported sophistication. ›

‹ ✦ ˚ ❪ élisa: answered. ❫ · a beating heart in a too small cage still beats. ›

‹ ✦ ˚ ❪ élisa: development. ❫ · she sits so tall，it’s like she fears nothing. ›

‹ ✦ ˚ ❪ élisa: headcanon. ❫ · let me bury my insecurities under a lovely tombstone. ›

‹ ✦ ˚ ❪ élisa: interactions. ❫ · i’ve never found a language worthy of my feelings. ›

‹ ✦ ˚ ❪ élisa: mirror. ❫ · she stands in the window in her pink dress，so radiant. ›

‹ ✦ ˚ ❪ élisa: musings. ❫ · i tend to desire things that will，in the end，destroy me. ›