Crown-Caged

[ferdinandrex-blog]

margotofalencon:

For a moment, she thought nothing of herself, nothing of the duties that she owed to France, to herself, to her father, to Melisandre, to Cecil, to her own heart. Her entire focus was centered on the man before her. His hand against her face was delicate, treating her as though she were to fall to pieces if handled too harshly. It was a consideration that few men took when seeking their pleasures with her. Her status long forgotten in the heated moments of the evening. At times, even she wished to forget the privilege that came with her name.

The slight movements of his lips as he spoke. The heat of his breath against her slightly flushed cheeks. Few thoughts came to mind as she was branded a jewel; mainly it reminded her of her father. For she had always been his most precious possession, his most dearly beloved. “Whatever are you thanking me for?” She replied in a soft voice, brows furrowed slightly at the confusion. There was no reason that she saw fit that he should be gracious toward her. She could not understand also how he saw her as priceless. If young Margot had learned anything in this world, it was that everything came at a price. 

“I believe that it best. I do not believe my cousins would forgive you if I were to fall ill while in your care. And they are two of the most formidable women in all of Christendom, I assure you.” There was a lightness to her tone, obviously jesting. Slowly her arms wrapped around the King’s neck and she lightly rested her golden head onto his chest as she listened to his heart with closed eyes.

It was a rare thing for Ferdinand, too, to succumb to selfishness.  The press of expectations upon a king weighed day and night.  Even in those rare moments he took his pleasure with a courtesan it was almost clinical in the rush for relief so he could return to far more important affairs.  But what the morning light might rise upon, what new crises could greet him tomorrow were the last thing upon his mind as he cradled Margot’s sweet face and took in the blush that suited her alabaster cheeks.  It belonged there more often. “Hrmm?” he inquired distractedly, having forgotten what he’d said as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “Thanking you?  Why, for agreeing.  For the comfort of your company, and giving it freely.  You didn’t have to.”  He smoothed out her wrinkling brow attentively. “You might have said yes simply to humor me.  Or spurned the invitation entirely.  There were no expectations, no hidden agenda or innuendo.  You surprise me at every turn, little pearl.  I’ll have to take care not to drop you,” the king lilted with a renewed cheerfulness as Margot’s lithe arms wound around his neck and her crown of soft golden hair nestled against his bare chest and that thump-thump-thumping heart.

He was true to his word, too.  He scooped her up into his arms, carried like a babe, and paused only long enough to retrieve his cloak from where it had been hung on a nearby tree.  Vast leather folds engulfed them both, only the king’s calves and feet bare and those stepped back into his boots enroute to the cobbled path that would lead back towards the palace. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promised in a whisper. “Hold tight about me, Highness.  I’ll sneak us back in through a gate with a sleepy guard who’ll pay us no mind.”  There was a clatter of hooves.  The mumble of a drowsy guardsman.  Ferdinand’s soles clapping against marble as they entered the palace proper and made for his chambers.  He wouldn’t lighten his burden nor ruin the sanctity of the innocence they enjoyed until heavy wooden doors closed and they were alone in a bedroom before a roaring fire and a soft mattress which was where he deposited her, swaddled in his cloak. “Here we are.”  He grinned conspiratorially, going to kneel by the bedside and whispering, yes, whispering, as if they were two children sneaking about and the slightest din might alert their governors. “Safe and sound, as I promised.  I daresay that’s the first and only time I’ll ever smuggle a naked woman into my quarters under my cloak, but this is one occasion when I wouldn’t have any tongues wagging.”  He meant that, too, expression gentling with sincerity. “It is the nature of our lot to imagine evil even where there is none.  And you are pure no matter what the rakes may crow, Marguerite.”

[ferdinandrex-blog]

margotofalencon:

Her hand was soft against the hardened muscles of the man’s chest. Eyes focused on how the moonlight played against her porcelain skin, appearing the almost illuminate it from within as if she held the gone away sun. The connection between the two royals was maintained only by the simplest touch of her hand against his chest. To feel the closeness of another human being’s heart and to crave that heart. Margot had meant what she assured him. All could find love and all should not be alone. But she could not quite believe that the two necessarily always worked in tandem. She had thought herself in love a few years prior, but she had buried those feelings almost as quickly as they had arisen. She knew she was much more useful to her cousins with a heart belonging to only her and devoted completely to her family.

His question surprised her greatly, which was shown by the slight widening of her blue eyes. She could not recall a time that a man had asked such a thing of her. In fact, it almost felt as though he wasn’t asking something of her, but offering to give more than to take. Her voice was barely above a whisper as she responded, “Yes.” Her blue eyes met his slowly as she tilted her head back ever so slightly. Lifting herself up onto the balls of her feet, she pressed her lips gently against his, not to tempt, not to incite his passions, but for the comfort of another.

If Ferdinand was the sun, burning bright and brittle and harsh, too full of self-denial to admit his illumination, in that moment shared between them Margot was the moon, reflecting more slowly and patiently.  She did assure him, in words gently whispered.  In the touch of her hand over a heart that he had written off as dead long ago.  And in a deed so precious he wasn’t quite sure he felt her lips upon his for the span of several breaths.  His fingers rest twined in gold locks just behind one shapely shell of an ear, holding the French duchess’ face lightly, not to force her to hold her place but to allow him to return the kiss. 

They both needed comfort, after all.  It was what had led him to the river on this dark night.  It had brought Marguerite to join him.  And now it had gifted him with the first genuine expression of comfort he had known in ages. “Sweet little pearl,” he murmured against her mouth. “That is what your name means in Latin and you are as priceless.  Thank you ...”  Ferdinand drew back, but only long enough to bid her behind a protective, insistent set to his aquiline features, “I promise to take the best care of the best woman in France tonight.  Starting now.  Will you put your arms around my neck so I can carry you to shore?  I think it’s time we quit this riverbed before you catch cold.”

[ferdinandrex-blog]

margotofalencon:

Briefly, her eyes closed as she felt his lips, gentle against her skin. To feel another’s lips on skin that normally did not receive such attention brought slight goosebumps to rise along her arms. As Ferdinand moved away from her, her body’s instinctually reaction was to move forward after him. But she kept herself still. “I cannot believe such a thing. One of humanity’s first task was to populate. To create a congregation to live in community with. I cannot see why God would want any person to exist alone. Perhaps there was foreseen fortunes in your many chances, but they must not have been the right one, or else God would have granted and blessed the marriage.” Margot moved closer to the man, delicately setting a hand over his heart. “We are not meant to be alone and one day, your heart shall beat for another. And you will be happy with her.”

These were moments Ferdinand preferred to deny.  Like Peter, he would cry out against the truth confronting him, spurn the opportunity presented to accept what fate might have in store, and run.  Unlike the prince of apostles, however, he could never find it in himself to make amends for the sin of hubris and self-denial.  To resist the beating of the heart that pounded faster against the sweet, feminine touch splayed out five-fingered over his chest, to be alone was painful ... but he had convinced himself for so long that it must be God’s will.  All he desired save his kingdom was stripped of him as soon as it was attained.  What more could there be to hope for?  Yet ... at the touch of that hand, he hoped.  Hoped against hope. “Christ, you are a wonder.  But if you believe that, so can I.”  And what he said next was a hush as soft as the breeze of Roman summer wafting over them as they stood in the midst of the Tiber, too transfixed to move.  It was a decree issued by his heart, not his head.  A fast-beating heart.

“Let me care for you tonight?”  The open question was barely out of his mouth before Ferdinand started.  Not to withdraw it, but to place his fingers over those against him, pressing Marguerite’s touch firmer, that she could feel his race and know it wasn’t the prattling of another damned boy casting about for a woman simply to make him a man. “I don’t mean your body, Marguerite.  Not in that way.  Will you let me show you, in turn, that your heart can beat for something other than the temporary pleasures lesser men have sought?  Stay with me tonight.  Just for the company.  Just for the warmth.  A bed that can be shared for the simple joy of having someone near.  A night enjoyed for itself, absent of ulterior motive.  You do make my heart quicken.  Feel?  And I don’t wish it to slow.”

[ferdinandrex-blog]

I don't think Catalina's brother will be pleased to learn of this obsession you have with her

Obsession?  I don’t know where you ever got that notion.  You’re the one badgering me about the She-Wolf.  I do my best to quit my mind of her, otherwise.

[ferdinandrex-blog]

but dude, you deserve some happiness. give in to yourself and marry Catalina.

What happiness would there be in a marriage where she would never be content and I would never be at peace because of it?  A lifetime of all I would lavish upon someone, all I would hope for and desire and dream of rejected, all affection spurned and all happiness denied?  I’m already well-acquainted with that plight.  I accepted it with my father.  I won’t suffer it in a wife.  And Cat wouldn’t in a husband, either.

[ferdinandrex-blog]

I would love to see you marry someone, fall in love with her, but she does not love you back.

All of that save marriage is done and turned to dust already.  A tale I would not re-visit a second time.

[ferdinandrex-blog]

I would like it if you end up marrying Catalina.

There’s no force on earth nor in Heaven or Hell to make that happen.  We are forever at one another’s throats, both too proud to be the first to bend.  There was a time, many years ago, when we were briefly betrothed.  We damn near killed each other.  She vexes me in my waking thoughts, in my prayers, in my sleep as it is.  To marry the She-Wolf?  I’d be inviting an emasculation by the bluntest object she can get her hands on come the wedding night. 

But even so, I would, too.

[alannasroleplaymemes-moved]

Go into my inbox and tell me a situation you’d love to see my Muse go through.

Curious how my muse would handle heartbreak? Want an open where my Muse is irrationally upset or in danger? Toss all the ideas at me! I might get inspired!

Anon is optional.

[ferdinandrex-blog]

elizxbethofscotland:

Poised in her gilded chair, one hand perched on the arm rest whilst the other lifted the silver chalice to her pursed lips. The event, the night, it was the epitome of stateliness, an encasement of grandeur all confined within the highest four walls she’d ever seen. Elizabeth was amused by the evening, although she had yet to be enthralled. With a trained gaze on the nearest body, she made a short effort to make conversation.

“I fear that the ache in my head has made my desire for dancing dwindle.”

It was a sight worth watching from afar, the cavorting of so many carefree couples out on the dance floor.  All that twisting and turning, the careful manoeuvering so as not to step on a partner’s toe or careen into another dancing pair ... it was far more trouble than it was worth.  So he preferred to sit idle by.  Apparently, so did someone else, and his head turned to take in the blonde onlooker, a faint chuckle of agreement and a toff of his own goblet in toast. “I’m quite content to let other people make damn fools of themselves.  Idiocy is best enjoyed as a spectator sport rather than an active participant.”

[ferdinandrex-blog]

margotofalencon:

Young Margot had never been deprived of anything that she required. Her father had servants that had seen to be every whim as a child. As an envoy, he often could not involve his daughter in his matters of state; she merely learned about them through her father’s many guests. He allowed her to pursue knowledge and whatever craft suited her fancy, but he himself never taught her. Margot learned to please others to obtain the information she needed and for those wooed to pass on reports to her father of how lovely and attentive she was as a daughter. Her eyes narrowed slightly, almost in confusion, as his lips brushed against her fingers. As the many continued to speak, blue eyes shifted toward his face. Her gaze took into account his features at a closer proximity before settling on his eyes. “Thank you. I too wish you for to find every happiness,” she murmured in response. A sudden amused light flashed through her bright blue eyes. “You make it sound almost as though I am a bewitcher of men whenever I merely employ one or the other, my mind or my body.” And whatever shall it take to bewitch you, she thought to herself, knowing to vocalize such a thing would likely upset him once more. 

“Oh, sweet girl,” Ferdinand mused, even managing a chuckle as his wayward lips found their way down her hand to the hollow of her wrist, kissing there as if applying a benediction, blessing hands that were made both to worship and be worshiped. “You don’t have to employ either.  You are bewitching by nature.  The sum of what God has granted you; in body, in mind, in spirit, beguiles without effort.  Happiness will come to you, as you are young.”  He drew back, then, something rueful in the king’s expression.  He needed no convincing that the duchess would find her way to precisely what she wanted out of life.  But Ferdinand? “I, on the other hand, have had my chances.  Numerous.  And all of them squandered.  God took from me most of the women I was betrothed to, but not all.  What plague did not steal, my own bull-headed stubbornness forbade.  At thirty-two, I could still find a wife.  But happy in that union?  Perhaps out of it.  There may be happiness in being alone, Marguerite.  Some days I believe there is.”

[ferdinandrex-blog]

margotofalencon:

She suddenly felt very mad for the man that stood before her. No longer did he seem a mighty conqueror. He appeared to her merely as a man, trained to see opportunity and not let emotion hinder his progress. How differently the two had been taught and yet how they both searched for a substitute for the emptiness that the night brought with such fever. “How do you know?” She whispered back with widening blue eyes that searched him for his answer. “After all that I have done to obtain the reputation that I have, how could there be a man to surrender all for a heart unable to be fully given because it has been taken from me and a heart that formed in the likeness of another’s rather than naturally?” Her fingers trembled slightly as she continued to trace along his jaw; blue eyes focused on the movement of her hand rather than on the King’s face. “To feel as though you were created to garner affection rather than feel it yourself…”

They were both of them reduced by now to their foundations.  Like an old castle weathered away by storms, once the roof is gone the rest soon tumbles leaving only the most enduring and basic of parts.  For Ferdinand’s part he was, yes, no more than a man.  One who had convinced himself over successive years that there was no panacea for the lack he felt.  But Margot?  If ever a woman was made to be loved, to be adored and worshiped as she craved, and to feel the full weight of it, it was this daughter of France. “The fact that you can recognize that in yourself,” he murmured, canting his head to brush a kiss of benediction over the fingers tracing his jaw, “is proof that you are not beyond feelings.  You care ... because you care, Marguerite.  And that makes all the difference.  I prophecy this over you now:  you will find happiness.  And feel its full bounty from a man who does not want you for simply the craft of your body or the cast of your mind, but for the whole of you and for yourself, good and ill, benefice and flaw.”

[ferdinandrex-blog]

daughterofnaples:

             “Oh I did not mean my heartbreak, uncle! I would never be so foolish as to cast my eye favourably onto anyone.” Briefly did she laugh but soon the laughter quietened down, wishing she had not allowed her emotions to burden Ferdinand with the knowledge of her mother’s sorrow as well as her own. At the best of times they hid their sorrow very well, Caterina’s mother better than Cat herself, but surely there was only so long a person could contain such pain. “She wears her grief very well, as a Queen she has been a mother to all subjects who express their sorrow towards her, but I do know she still mourns. We cannot spend the rest of our days in sadness, can we? My brothers were lively in spirit, surely they would wish for us to truly live.” The smile which she gave was gentle but genuine all the same, after much time she had finally convinced herself that she had indeed come to terms her loss for as long as her parents and one remaining brother were alive all should be well. “But I inquire on your Majesty, is all well? How does my mother’s homeland fair?”

“Good,” Ferdinand was truly satisfied by that confession, something of the big brother coming out in him in protectiveness of a young, vivacious niece.  Well.  She was the daughter of his sister, after all. “Though I’m certain there isn’t a male eye in Rome that isn’t cast upon you by now, sweetling.”  Smiles were muted in sadness as conversation turned towards Caterina’s mother, but the grief both mother and daughter had no doubt known was redeemed by the touching post-script and epitaph Cat added.  There was no better philosophy for life than that, was there?  Her uncle’s hand gently traced the moue of her smile, bidding it lift back up. “And you shall live, Caterina.  So will my sister, given time.  As for Aragon, it fares well.  With the plague abating and our prosperity slowly restored, we can afford ourselves a moment of peace.  I have declared an amnesty to all but the most grievous of criminals and an alleviation of taxes for the next twelve months.  This Year of God’s Grace should be enjoyed by all, not merely those fortunate enough to revel in Rome, hrmm?”

[ferdinandrex-blog]

lxdytherese:

Once his hands touched her elbows, she immediately froze, and stood her full height, her brown eyed gaze focused on him as she took in the title that he gave her. He was a King? She had given her opinion freely like a petulant child, to a King? Even if he had appreciated it. “It truly is a pleasure, Your Majesty. I am glad you… Enjoyed my honesty, but I am sorry for being as blunt as I was, about it. You did not deserve rudeness.” 

“Rest assured, lady, that if you had been rude I should have quit your company.  You were merely being honest and I never fault anyone for that,” Ferdinand staunchly insisted.  And that was the truth of it.  Even when on the opposite end of an argument, as he clearly was in terms of faith with this opinionated woman, he never begrudged anyone their opinion so long as it was well-put. “Outside of doctrinal matters, I hope you’re enjoying Rome well enough.”

[ferdinandrex-blog]

margotofalencon:

Her hand was nearly limp in her hand as she allowed him to attempt to comfort her. She did not wish to be under scrutiny any longer. Her cheeks were flushed and eyes red, but the tears had ceased to roll down her cheeks. At least his features had softened toward her once more. Margot could almost feel his sympathy. Through her eyes, she expressed her distress while he admitted to being such a man. “Then how can you claim that love means so little when you have felt the abyss that comes from its absence?” Her voice had grown very small; she almost sounded like a child in her curiosity, in her confusion. Margot looked up into his eyes, lightly running the back of her fingers along his jawline. “You are not bereft of affection or the ability to give it, Ferdinand. I do not care what you have been taught. You deserve emotion, affection, love. That is why you must settle for nothing less.”

“Because outside of a few brief moments, all I have ever known in life has been the abyss.  There is no higher standard against which to weigh the lack.  Even in ignorance I know something is missing but I do not understand and cannot appreciate what it would be to know emotion.  Affection.  Love.”  It was an admission Ferdinand made to very few, and to himself only in moments of weakness like this one.  He was naked in spirit as much as in flesh and the gentle runnel of Margot’s hand along his jawline bid his eyes close a moment and again rein in the beasts of his own creation.  When they opened again, the cobalt-hue windows onto a soul too honest for his own good sought to turn the attention back towards the duchess before him. “It may be a lesson we should both of us learn from.  You are not bereft of affection either, Marguerite.  Nor any less deserving of receiving it.  It is clear you will not settle for less than the right man to surrender your love to but I don’t doubt you have the capacity.”

[ferdinandrex-blog]

daughterofnaples:

                Even as royal duties kept families apart after betrothals, there had never been a moment when Caterina’s mother had spoken badly of her brother and so, even in his absence, young Cat had ever thought highly of her dear uncle. There was still so much yet unknown as to where attending the celebrations would lead her, to betrothal perhaps, but there was no greater comfort than that of family. “It truly warms my heart to know you believe so, uncle,” her smile was as fond as ever as distance was created between the two, giving Caterina the chance to truly look upon Ferdinand before his flattery made her pale cheeks blush lightly. “That may be so alas my father wishes that I be married soon, there may be more heartbreak yet. Is the wine so strong?” she laughed at the mere idea of her uncle overtaken by the beverage. “At least you are still upstanding, though I imagine most of Rome may not be for the duration of the festivities. The Eternal City is indeed treating me well, it is a wonder to have such a breath taking place not so far from my beloved Naples. I should be sad to leave. Naples, however, is in mourning.” The smile which previously held such happiness and brightness faltered slightly, not entirely disappearing, and no longer reached her eyes. “The last summer began so warm that many fell ill, two of my brothers were among them and my mother remains in mourning. Perhaps you could write to her? I am more than certain your words alone would lift her spirits.”

Ferdinand welcomed the tide of words that flowed from Caterina.  Her lust for life and the living of it had always been a favorite trait in his biased and doting eyes and he joined her in laughter.  She reminded him so much of her mother, his sister.  If she could not be in Rome, Caterina was an able proxy and restored Ferdinand as well to youth by the evidence of her own. “Tut, child, marriage does not necessarily bring heartbreak.  Unless you’ve cast your eye favourably on another already?  Oh, but Cat ...”  Ferdinand’s ebullience crashed into a grimace, head shaking, wishing away the ill tidings she shared.  The plague had left no family untouched.  Ferdinand’s father and all-too-brief wife had perished by the same malady. “I’ll write to her today, I swear it.  She is too gentle and loving to be cast down in grief.  If I could take that pain on myself and spare her, I happily would.  No heart as great as your mother’s should know the pain of losing a son.  Far less two.”

[ferdinandrex-blog]

thelittleonc:

              “ I thank you kindly, Your Highness. It is always a pleasure to meet my extended family; unless, of course, I have gotten my family lines incorrect. ”

“Novella, you may not remember me but from where I am standing you have scant changed from the sweet girl I met in Lysander’s court many years ago.  No, actually, that isn’t fair.  You have prospered a thousandfold in beauty, charm, and grace.  But still the charming little one whose feet could not reach the floor when she sat upon her father’s throne.”

[ferdinandrex-blog]

margotofalencon:

Her eyes were misted with tears. She had never taken to such a cruel viewing of the world. To see so little love in it was to admit that she was merely a pawn on God’s grand chess board. And that was something that she would never accept. “What good is love?” She murmured back, a feeling quite close to horror in her voice. “What good is being alive if the only purpose is to be used?” Margot turned her face away from him. Helen of Troy. What an image. It was not her fault either and yet she was adored and hated. “Have you ever seen a broken-hearted man, your Majesty? Been in his presence as he recalled his beloved? Have you been forced to ensure his suffering because you cannot help but be the mere image of who she was? Have you seen a man’s body wracked with sorrow, refusing even the simplest necessities of life? Instead of celebrating the birth of his child every year, spending the day locked away and mourning a woman long dead? Tell me love does not matter when you have watched the absence of it destroy a man’s life.”

Ferdinand was no stranger to tears but he never had any resistance to their welling up in a fetching pair of feminine eyes.  He sighed, and reached for Marguerite’s hand, clasping it and squeezing her elegant, fine digits in reassurance and turning her back round to face him, any trace of frustration or anger gone, replaced with a sympathy that surpassed the ducal cock-blocking he’d received.  There were more important things, after all. “Dry your eyes, Marguerite.  I know entirely of what you speak.  I am well-acquainted with such a man.”  His own blue eyes blinked.  No tears, but clearly tension in their azure depths. “I’ve only to look into a mirror to see one as you’ve described.  I know the ache of whatever remnants remain in his chest, too sundered and scattered to still be called a heart.  And I was also a child so spurned but by a father who valued strength more than love, and his reign over the affection of his own son.  He mourned not the death of his love, but the lack of anything approaching that emotion in his breast.  And he never taught his son any different.”