Adveniat regnum tuum
“Ah,” he chuckled as a large hand ran over his scalp and through dark, soft curls. “The predicaments of age. I feel myself unwillingly approaching such a point, despite how such festivities and celebrations always delight me. But I will not go down without a fight, as I am sure you are aware,” he continued, humorously alluding to the King’s frequent revels in time of peace but also his resilience during the time of war against the English.
“A little bit of both,” he confessed. “I needed a short break, though I also needed the Lord. There is much I must ask of him.” Such as for the success of his quietly advancing troops. “He often provides me with the comfort I cannot get elsewhere.”
“Everything ages, but we are like wine, my good Lord. We age with grace and are far better and wiser in time, would you not agree?” The queen softly said as I took a careful step towards the French king, low, amused chuckle escaping her lips at the comment. “Neither one of us will, your majesty. It is not in our nature to surrender.” She knew very well what he meant as they were both forged in the same iron, same fires of war shaped them.
“If that is the case then I would hate to impose. Should you still desire to speak with our Lord, then I shall leave you in peace.” Sophia offered.












