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defyingtreason:

An exhale threaded with culpability had been duly stifled, sentineled by the macerated brims of his lips as she entreated his heartfelt desires — more ardently than any matter of state he quelled with an amorphous dispensation upon the throne. He did not often rifle within the chambers of his own heart, as though a gilded locket oxidized by time; moreover, he also did not care to when the feasibility of unearthing personal gospels that ought to have gone unheeded remained formidable. His soul was astray and pitched like a strapping vessel unruddered in a shoreless pelagic; heaved thither and hither by Kamille’s temerarious will. He peered outward, never inward, and shifted his attention otherwhere from the countenance of his betrothed lest his adopted, diplomatic and distanced nature crumble as swiftly as Greece’s zenith. ‘You should not speak so plainly.’ His words were spoken low within the hollow of his throat, as though the subject was no more than his own privy-council. ‘Why must you dredge up love? I am neither your husband nor your acquaintance. I am your betrothed, your sovereign. Whatever sentiments I bear you will be next in order to our marital responsibilities.’ A winded breath vented from within him. ‘Could you not be content, be happy, in such a way? You will be Queen. Is that not enough?’

Do not speak so plainly. A scorn. William's syllables were dusted in embers and brought a singing pain as the breeze carried them in the direction of a porcelain visage; prompted the ridges of her trachea to bob as she swallowed thickly-- swallowed down the flames of hurt that flourished within her skeletal. "And why must you recoil from it?" Brows kneaded, features twisted in both vexation and bewilderment. "Happy? No matter how it is preened and strung, happiness will not be derived from a country that is not my own alongside a man who views me in the sole light of an obligation." The rounds of shoulders were tugged back, swords and knives and the like wedged between the divots of a vertical spine. "To be Queen is to merely be a caged bird meant to swell with the children of His Majesty for the continuation of a region that is not her home," Her words were not brittle, not extracted from tinder ribs but rather the soot of flames, "You must excuse me for dreading to bare such. And at the side a man, for he is merely such, who is incapable of sharing my fondness."

#william.

If you could marry any man in Rome, whom would you choose?

"A wasted inquiry, certainly. It should be known that in a line of Rome's finest, I would choose my betrothed each time; starved of an exception. King William is a man I hold in the utmost regards, as both a ruler and companion."

#{ answered. }#i forget what my tag is tbh #Anonymous

ofluxembourg-deactivated2017011

CONFITEMINIRP + TEXT POSTS

#amazing #{ golden. }

King William will never love you.

#ouch #{ answered. }

You deserve all the love and affection in this world..

“How kind of you to say so, though such a notion seems to belong in dreams and dreams alone. To expect otherwise would be foolish and one’s demise.”

#Anonymous #{ answered. }

You deserve much better than Willy.

“Perhaps. Albeit the company of His Majesty has not descended from pleasant, and that is all a woman can wish of her betrothed.”

#{ answered. }

invademyinbox

Anonymously leave a six word confession from your character to mine.

#!!#{ inbox game. }

defyingtreason:

He decanted a swallow of scarlet fluid by passage of keeled goblet into the recess of his covetous throat, secured gaze ambivalent to migrate from the consolation of Kamille’s then wonted visage. Vigilantly did he place his goblet upon a vacant table-top; broad strides of his legs consuming the breadth between King and Princess, lithe hand taken betwixt his to cast her chalice aside, concrete locum-tenens being his fist. He hoisted her hands upwards, held in the warmth of his palms, as his head ducked downwards; lips inches from grazing. ‘My rules, as you remarked, are set in stone for the comfort of your Highness,’ He murmured, breath of vino mingling given the proximity they shared. Desire remaining evident though repressed as his gaze lowered to the curve of her full mouth. ‘I have craved women before. And it has been my own folly to hasten such a sentiment which ultimately deteriorates it. Moreover… ’tis expectation and deliberate suppression which heightens the pleasures of marriage. Believe me when I tell you such a thing.’ Lashes dusted across the apples of his merry cheeks for an elapsed moment, a gust of wind strong enough to press skin upon skin; but alas he coiled away at the eleventh moment. ‘And I should beseech my bride to be wholesome, staved of touch of man, when I take her to my keep.’

The extent of a blink, a mere downward flutter of sooty lashes and William's broad frame was nearly pressed to her own, tender digits collected in his calloused touch; the King's abrupt motions tugging an audible gasp from her mouth. Whether provoked by a presence which entirely consumed her, or the copious gulps of wine mingling within veins, she was left entirely entranced by the seraphic man before her; valiant syllables exhaled and left to caress the swell of her bottom lip. "Do you not wish it to be for love?" Her inquiry exited in a near choke-- candid words plucked and spoken without further thought on their repercussions, "We shall be wed, a lavish moment surely-- though one that will be followed by men who's breath exhaled down our necks; sacred in the eyes of God, though not of pleasure, of love," Her words were quiet, meant for William and he alone, "And what follows? It is then for children, for an heir, for His Majesty. Are your rules for my comfort, or for Your Majesty's past faults?" His words had meant to reassure, surely, though Kamille's own had left her hollow-- weak for all that would never be.

defyingtreason:

A woman whose appetite relished vino as feverishly as his own was one after the cadence of his heart, arousing a taught grin to refine the corners of his lips. Copper head inclined in accordance as he lifted a chalice, grinning against the tow-hued rim – in both disguise and modesty. How quickly had raven beauty and delicate charm wound itself around his digits he was loathe to relinquish. ‘Indeed, though perhaps a triad of chalices come eventide will be enough to conciliate my desire. I dare not ask how many cups those around us have indulged in to-night… And as a rule I do not ask after a woman’s own sybaritism.’

The familiarity threaded to the handsome visage of her newfound companion coaxed Kamille's features luminous; a short melody of laughter trickling from a mouth the hue of roses, mingling with the dark substance inhabiting her chalice as it was brought to parted lips. "I consider it a shame to quell one's cravings," A brow quirked, maintaining the male's gaze as her wrist tipped back and wine seeped to her palate, swallowing gingerly before continuing, "Though perhaps it must be attempted on a day as holy as this." A petite nose pinched upwards, though mirth remained evident, "If I may be so brazen, I must admit I am beginning to grow tiresome of your rules, William. I am afraid they so contradict the stories that trail in the wake of His Majesty."

An aureate goblet gingerly drained of it's crimson contents coaxed Kamille from a cluster of bodies, manoeuvring through the slight crowd to a servant who's bony grasp curled around a jug's jutting handle. A slender wrist reached as the outsider poured, a light gaze glancing in the direction of the nearest company, offering a small portion of her attention, "Is the content of your chalice dwindling as well? Albeit I'm not certain we require the intake of vino to elicit excitement-- It is all so thrilling, is it not?"

#confiteevent01 #confitestart

ofluxembourg:

defyingtreason:

░ ♚ ––– ❛ @gildedresent. ❜ | sᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀ. ░ ♚ ––– ❛ @ofluxembourg. ❜ | sᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀ.

Azure eyes plaited with malice as one would nightshade and venom lifted from the imbrued, richly-threaded doublet garnishing the width of his chest; scanning for a bearing of objectivity which had permeated his betrothed Kamille in the presence of the Grand Duke whilst grappling his own sudden pique. Gaze proceeded by an inaudible exhale, William hemmed his throat of swollen irascibility clinging to tautly-strung chords; starved of the wherewithal to lambaste, as he might were he alone and rampant, Henri for delivering a mortification upon his person as Moses had done the Pharaoh. Tension arose to the corners of his commissures as he spoke, gently and conspicuously strained in sound, ‘Princess - it is my utmost honor to introduce you to the Grand Duke of Luxembourg. Given the relative propinquity between Hungary and Luxembourg; I would have thought such an acquaintance had already been made. Although…’ Eyes cast darkly upon the Grand Duke as embittered words punctuate, ‘Owing to the size of Luxembourg - what value it might be to a strapping Kingdom such as Hungary… I could not fathom.’

It was an unmanning prospect, to lose face in the company of a cherished friend and a complete stranger, and it was one the monarch did everything he could to prevent—— so far successfully. The debut of the woman’s identity upon William’s tongue was met with an apprehensive tilt of the Grand Duke’s head, and he cast an almost wary eye in the direction of the Hungarian Princess, features framed with auburn tresses and an apparent contentment Henri could only resent her for in that singular moment. Whatever jouissance he had shattered between them now left the Grand Duke facing an anger he was not inured to, and his chest expanded upon a copious breath of air into his lungs, the action smarting; his expression severe. The Swede’s caustic words were enough to allow hostility to seep into his expression and coil his risorius, yet a tremor upon his brow remained —— its existence fleeting and wrought with hurt. ‘Alas, my time has been spent servicing my Scandinavian allies.’ The Grand Duke sniped in retaliation, his tone far too immaculate to perpetuate warmth as he inwardly reeled from William’s strike upon a sequestered nerve, a bête noire which Henri did not take kindly to being stirred, regardless of the face its antagonist bore. ‘Though upon consideration, Hungary has not stood out to myself as one to be counted among the foremost of powers.’ Leaden eyes fall upon the Princess once more, his anger cornered by their surrounding and thus lashing out at whatever stood between it and a clear escape; ‘How fares your nation, Princess? I hear the wait for an heir has reached its cessation; that Prince Abel was a most celebrated addition to the Hungarian court. Your father must be most thankful of such a blessing.’

The cadence of her betrothed held malice, such matched to the raven features of the man situated before them. The relocation of the conversation's callous ties prompted the roll back of slim shoulders, knives bending outwards from the ridges between an erect spine; the Grand Duke's words spitting flame and fuel to the remnants of resent housed in the curve of her belly-- syllables kneading at a rotting wound she had long considered healed. "Yes, it seems the Hungarian royal court is swollen with blessings in a manner that Luxembourg has only known misfortunate," The alabaster curve of a chin lifted, the clench of molars tucking angles beneath Kamille's jaw, "Surely the looming fear of trailing behind what greatness preceded Your Highness has been taxing, and that is what has muddled your thoughts and presented you the perception that you may speak to His Majesty King William and his betrothed in such a manner," Kamille's words were uttered in a leisurely fashion, algid in the way Henri and William's blazed; the composure that the couplet of men flanking her were starved of firm in the Princesses grasp. It was then she swallowed thickly, her gaze moving from their newfound addition to her betrothed-- seeking acceptance, perhaps.

What do you hope to bring to Sweden upon your nuptials?

“King William is no less a man without my presence, though I aspire to provide His Majesty with what he cannot attain on his own: bountiful offspring and an heir that will bestow his father great pride.”

#Anonymous

defyingtreason:

His head canted to the side, ashy tendrils draping the striking slope of his forehead and the tender nape of his neck swathed with richly fur. His eyes blaze hollows through the fabric of the target aligned several feet ahead of the duo with the intensity by which he assessed it; wisps of his breath fanning against the apples of the Princess’ plump and roseate cheeks. William peered downwards, meeting her gaze with a decisively palliated manner, gaze hitching on the gentle curve of her lips which stretched outwards in a gleam. Bourns of his own mouth plucked upwards by the threaded completion of her utterance and by which do his eyes once more return to her own; most infelicitous thoughts repatriated as though cerebral marauders from the crown of his thoughts brimful of the scent wafting from the propinquity of her slender frame.

‘Very well,’ He retorted, and ordered for the crossbow to be brought to them, stepping aside only to fix the arrow into place. A cough encompassed his throat, cleared of the propositions which had welled. ‘If a gift is what your Highness’ seeks, it shall surely be granted. Though my own person would be at ease if you would entreat me with your tangible desires; for I am afraid, such things are inscribed in Greek. Although having been made aware of your Highness’ newness upon Roman territories, ‘twould give me a great deal of pleasure if you would allow me the honor of escorting you about the city come the inauguration of the Pope this forthcoming week.’

Returning to such a proximity, the King wound his arms around Kamille’s figure; unimpeded hand drawn upwards to guide her forearm into place. Conducting her lithe fingertips to curl over the bow, he then placed his own over them; exhibiting the stark differences in the pairs’ size. Formidable and fetching.

Lips ghosting over the shell of her ear, tendrils of dark locks stroking his chin, the King positioned the crease of three fingers atop taut strings. ‘Draw back, as slow as you wish, until the string caresses the tip of your nose,’ He instructed, his own movements pulling the string backwards. ‘And align the arrow with your target.’

"Albeit perhaps presumptuously, I had reckoned Your Majesty to possess far more than an inkling of knowledge for that which ladies yearn for," Her tone was mellifluous and without pause-- as if the topic of their discussion was within the realm of the mundane, the weather or castle's expanse, and not swollen with implications; the corners of Kamille's mouth quirked upwards, frivolity painted fondly to the pale expanses of cherub features. "You will not bear such contentment alone, William. I shall look forward to it with affection."

The fetching male's guiding touch was tender-- the outstretch of her fingertips falling limp, accepting his lead without dismay. The overlay of the King's grasp in accompaniment with the lack of separation between their figures elicited a timid inhale to expand ribs, lulling the full of the raven tressed beauty's mouth into a part.

What focus Kamille housed quickly dissipated as the heat of his breath curled down her throat, as lust and all that accompanied such further unfurled and provoked her thoughts cropped and rearranged to all depict William. In his presence the wolf of a woman she had constructed herself to be within her rise from the ashy substances of betrayal was shrugged off and she was merely a girl-- one established in porcelain and femininity and fragility; a gilded compass throbbing beneath a ribbed cage whose arrow jutted in the direction of none but the man adjacent to her. She swallowed thickly at the presentation of such knowledge.

Followed by an inaudible exhale and the wish for such notions of love to be carried away by the wind, she mirrored the male's motions, gingerly tugging the string until it grazed the end of her nose; a moment taken to obey his final instruction, the curve of alabaster knuckles lifting slightly until the arrow's head was aligned with the petite circle the hue of a songbird's breast. Malnourished of hesitation the brunette released, the carved iron fleeing her grasp to pierce canary fabric, such prompting a luminous grin to adorn euphoric features.

defyingtreason:

‘For shame. Amongst the pleasure of riding, no woman should be without skill in archery.’ He spoke candidly, testing the truth of her purity in the underlying implication of his words by her forthcoming reaction.

The Princess’ unblushing appeal provoked an anomalous expression to take part amongst the assortment of his drastic features, meeting his eyes in fervor and his lips with broadened mirth. With her stirring insistence did he nod amicably, chin drawn downward as a leaden grin curved his mouth upwards, serene craters composing in the reddened moons of his cheeks. ‘‘Twould be my greatest honor, ‘Highness,’ The King assured, light eyes cast upon his bevy of attendants to entreat his desideratum. ‘Sire, fetch us another crossbow. Smaller, albeit. For her Highness.’

His words commanded, he summoned Kamille to follow him with a gesture of his hand, the familiarness of his Christian moniker in lieu of his royal title upon her tongue not lost within the contemplations teeming inside his skull.

Rooted several feet from the target’s imposing stance atop the viridescent sod; gentle hands splayed across her abdomen gingerly to situate her in place, dwarfing her frame beneath his palms, her corseted spine drawn inches from the warmth shedding from his doublet. ‘Stand as so. Remain steady. Are you comfortable, Kamille?’ He queried charitably, gaze seeking her eyes amongst the lush greenery in genuine, estimable concern.

The insinuations puncturing his syllables drained amusement to fetching features-- grin painting to a full mouth more feline than girl, "That may be one of the truest sentiments Your Majesty has uttered. You must put it to parchment and have it reach the ears of all; save the budding adolescent the dissatisfaction I endured."

The mere tilt of his wrist and her frame found motion once more, aligning herself to the circular object perched among greenery several feet from her figure, conducting various cautions to it's fabric within her thoughts-- she'd loathe to be made a fool, especially in such company. A mere touch coaxed heat to the curve of her waist, a moment spent considering if the blatant increasing throb of a pulse tucked beneath the curve of a slender neck and sharp jaw was within the male's view. Kamille swallowed thickly at the thought-- her name must not be scrawled to the lengthy list of women who's limbs he cajoled weak.

Her name shrouded in his lilt provoked the upwards turn of seraphic features, gaze ascending from the swell of his mouth to light irises; inky lashes drawing shadows to lifted cheekbones. "I am entirely at ease," Her words were melodious and forthright and tasted sweet to her tongue-- snared and exhaled from the rib closest to her heart.

The approach of another noosed her attention away from her betrothed-- a single blink and what constellations had lifted to pupils when in his presence were rid a few stars. Eyes dropped from the unknown man's forgettable visage to the bow tenderly cradled in his grasp before turning back to the male who's palm's nearly swallowed her waist whole, "If the target is wounded, shall I be bestowed a reward?"

dukearzhur:

A letter so soon after arriving in Rome - from Brittany, no less - was the sign of a bad omen. As he opened the letter while standing on a shared balcony, Arzhur, believing he was alone, let out a rather loud oath. Suddenly, a shuffling of feet made him turn around, and he was face to face with someone who had no business reading his letters. Too stunned to apologize, he blurted, “Does anyone in this city understand the concept of privacy these days?”

The conversation Kamille had been entwined with prior regarding her marriage had lifted tension to slender limbs and swathed suffocation to a trachea, a silhouette draped in silks desperate to exit the castle's confinements; such relief coming in the form of the nearest balcony. A broad frame adorned in fabric the hue of soot in addition to inky curls, his presence drew her gaze; a shadow of a man contrasting her fair features. His syllables dusted what curiosity had coated tinder ribs, instead brows drawing together as a mouth pursed. "It appears where we were starved with the knowledge of privacy you were not taught manners," Though his frame towered her own, Kamille gazed at the male as if he were blatantly beneath her. And, in a manner of speaking, he largely was. "I could have that letter read aloud to the entire kingdom if I so please--" Features slacked, mirth coiling within pupils as a ghosting smirk pressed to her mouth, "It's contents must be tucked near to your heart, a place I refuse to traipse near. Alas, you have been spared the judgement of myself and those I would have deemed worthy. Albeit it should be known that a handsome face can only avoid so many adversities, and the next may not be as charitable as myself."

defyingtreason:

The weather was fair and lenient against the King’s fair complexion and luxuriant stratums of rich linen, though a pale roseate caressed the apples of cheeks warmed by the merciful daystar; a stretch of skin between his fore and thumb searing with so transient sting it remained imperceptible as an arrow shot forth from his grasp, transfixing the scarlet-ringed target with a master’s touch. He retreated, eyed the placement of his arrow, and transferred the bow into the arms of one of his many attendants, arms returning to his side as his intended and her entourage of women approached him. With them did a broad grin accompany his features, eyes cast upon Kamille of Hungary and the ever-present twinge upon her lips. ‘Good-afternoon, ladies. Princess. I lament that you could not have arrived sooner, wherefore you must now tolerate my companionship alone as the Grand Duke and his wife have left to sup and tend their son. I know not how I will compose myself amongst a covey of such handsome women of refined stature, such as yourselves.’ His greeting having met it’s cessation, he turned amiably to the Princess. ‘Has Your Highness ever practiced archery?’

@gildedresent

Irises the tangible hue of the sea watched as a skilled touch drew a string backwards and released, gaze lingering to the male's broad frame for a moment even following the arrow's departure; the conceit wedged between his spine coaxing it erect evident-- though, rather than such coaxing flames of hatred within her abdomen, it coaxed the corners of a full mouth upwards. It was not until she further approached that Kamille tugged her gaze (with slight reluctance) from her betrothed to the arrow's slender neck punctured carmine fabric. It was as near centre as it could possibly be-- though she had not anticipated another outcome. Leisurely, as if his presence had not yet provoked haste, she met his gaze. "I had already assumed you skilled in maintaining composure while striving to unfurl that of those around you, William," A groom brow quirked, the melody puncturing his words surely enough to lift heat to the high cheekbones of any women-- syllables they'd tuck within their sleeve and nurse later on. Though, Kamille and the women trailing her lithe silhouette were less easily impressed. His inquiry prodded a light gaze in the bow's direction, her memory starved of such a mechanism. "My father blanched at the thought of his treasured daughters atop horse, his heart would have combusted if we were to consider archery if even for a moment." The thought of her father lifted a bitter taste to her tongue, metallic-- something that pursed her mouth and elicited a languid gait in the male cradling the weapon, chin grazing the curve of her shoulder as she peered back at her intended, "Coach me."

#dani tell me how many smalls do u use to get ur text that tiny #william.#william 01.

haraldofdenmark:

“ The heat in Rome is too akin to FIRES OF HELL – I am beginning to wonder if they are one in the same.”

A brash disposition had puckered those within Hungary's boundaries crimson in the face, a scorn filed sharp quick to be exhaled in one's direction. Though, it's the male's brazen nature which peels a rosebud mouth back to reveal a luminous, albeit short lived, grin. "You must be heedful of what you utter, Your Majesty, in the wrong presence and you will find yourself taken by tongue to the Church. One may think you pluck your conclusions from experience and deem you unholy.”

#harald.#harald 01.

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