Dauphin

Henri, Dauphin of France.

[henriofvalois]

blessedcharlesv‌:

  @henriofvalois

  For a while Charles listened to the lullaby of bees humming in the berceau of flowers and plants, and watched through the glass the tender, blooming foliage which indicated the advancement of spring. His principal attraction towards the greenhouse lay in its perfect use as a solitary sanctuary; the change in temperature brought a wave of strength to his form, but with it arrived a stinging reminder he remained a foreign element in the English court. Spain promised him the dazzling warmth of the sun, the hum of birds and bees, lulling him into gentle bliss; Charles became overwhelmed with lassitude, and retired to a stone bench.

   “Your grace.” Two hours of rest had stolen over his figure, and he awoke, glad to see the sun had not yet declined out of sight. His mouth parted to interrogate the guard who disturbed his slumber, but his eyes followed the hand pointed north; all inquires were rendered dead, and the Emperor fell mute. Boyhood had been stole from Henri; the bright young creature was a gentle child no longer. Had their history not been fraught with villainy and abomination, his eyes would have been dazzled by the sight of the fair young man - so changed from the timid, frightened boy whose countenance never ceased to be dominated by childish expressions.  As if moved by the strength of Charles’ cruel gaze (borne not out of anger, but out of reflection) the guard moved to procure the youth, whose quiet reverie had yet to be poisoned by the presence of his enemy. “Courage, young Dauphin; I shall not seek to declare your person my hostage; no longer shall I be God’s darkest angel.” Charles words were muttered beneath the sound of approaching feet, though his eye was vain to only raise enough to half glimpse the figures; rejection by the prince would be fair, but devastating. 

    Henri sought only to clear his mind in the gardens. There was too much gossip at court, idle and ill-advised given that many courtiers whispered treason from their tongues as if it was nothing more than honey on their chins. He thought mayhaps he ought to bear pity for the English King, but would never utter such a thought aloud. No doubt, King Henry had some purpose for his absence and Henri would leave the benefit of such a fact to his father. He walked alone, dismissing others who would squawk endlessly at his ear despite apparent protests. He did not wish to discuss the beauties of court, nor the prospects of a hunt, nor even the weight of the new sword his father had procured for him. 

     Now, however, he wished he had been wise enough to bring along someone if for nothing more than an excuse. The heavy footsteps of the Emperor’s guard drew from him an ache deep in the pit of his stomach. Unbidden, his ribcage restrained like a woman’s corset, constricting his breath despite outward appearances of indifference and quiet contemplation. Emperor Charles, before him in the flesh. It did not feel so long ago that he towered above Henri, humiliating the little French prince with the clothes he saw fit to have him dressed in, frightening him into perfect behavior for a foreign court. Though he was a man grown, Henri could not help but feel small. Hoping to compensate for such feelings of inadequacy, he lifted his chin, pausing as if in thought to collect his strength. He had been the spare when he’d traveled to Spain, the spare without a mother who still wept for France’s Claude on many occasions, but now he was the Dauphin of France, the heir to a dynasty, and he would not tremble before his former foe. 

     “Non, your grace.” Henri responded, his voice clearer than he had anticipated. “I would not desire to see you as such, nor do I feel threat in your presence. Your ambassador has met me with warm invitation and spoke of your desire to see me. I do believe our precious Lord sees fit to provide opportunity, and nay I am but a man incapable of denying merciful Christ as such.” He prattled, building confidence as he bid his time. He stopped, the guard hovering nearer than he liked, and instinctively positioned his frame so that he felt more control. “I have grown much since last you harbored me in your home, non? What think you of the boy you knew, grown before you?” 

[henriofvalois]

cfboleyn‌:

    -    Even though she had spent quite some time in the service of the French Princess, Anne had kept from intruding on private time spent between the French royal family and so the situation in which she currently found herself was perhaps the first time she found herself truly observing the Prince and in that noticed the almost striking resemblance he held to his mother.  It was a fact which caused her to smile beyond her control, though it was a rather bittersweet smile given how sad the loss of the Queen had been. “ I had forgotten furs earlier and did not wish to abandon them in rooms which are not mine own, I had, of course, thought supper would be attended by all this evening. It is not too late if you wish to join? Many are late in their arrival and the Princess Georgette has not long since sat down, I believe. ”

     Her answer made sense, of course. She held the furs in her arms now, and he had no cause to be suspicious of his sister’s companion. She had been his mother’s companion, too, he reminded himself. He’d been but a babe and her a very young woman at the time, but if his mother entrusted her confidence to the Boleyn woman, who was he to question? “Ah, if my sister has not long since sat, then I am twice as certain I shall refrain.” He made sure to say it with all the seriousness he could muster, as if that were the most obvious thing in the world, but his smile broke through not even a full breath later. “Non, Mistress Boleyn, I would seek sustenance at another time. I find I’ve no appetite at this moment.” He moved, deciding to make himself comfortable now as he settled on one of the couches. 

     His shoulders rolled back as he stretched his legs, a crack of bone audible in the room. “You are correct in your presumption that most would attend supper this eventide, but you have yet to find your place either. Are you not with hunger?” He asked, brow raised as he moved his hand to gesture that she could sit with him should she wish to. 

[henriofvalois]

annedheilly‌:

Lent was meant to be a time of austerity, but Anne had indulged herself only a little in having a new riding gown made. It was a relief to have the weather turning toward spring to a degree, and she was in a good mood as of late, curious as to where prospects were leading her. It was in this spirit, and clad in pale blue like the early spring sky, that Anne found herself waiting for a horse to be readied for a ride when the Dauphin appeared beside her. 

She was not stupid, naturally, knowing his distaste for her was not unlike her sister’s. “Oh, indeed.” She agreed, the French curling off her tongue - despite the plethora of French people in this court, she almost missed being able to speak her native tongue. “It is very promising indeed. I was very much hoping to explore the lands around this palace and see if they are much changed since the hunt at St. Valentine’s tide.” She offered a smile - choosing not to mirror the young man’s bitter expression. “Your Highness is welcome to ride with me, if you should like company. It should be my great honor to evince a friendship between us now that all circumstances seem changed.”

    Henri was perhaps only slightly to ashamed to admit he’d been surprised to hear French from her tongue. She hadn’t been away from court all that long, and there were enough companions with knowledge of the language to practice, but he’d been growing more used to the harsh cadence of English in his ears. It served as a wise choice for the Duchess, as it soothed his temper just slightly. “I have not heard rumor of the hunt at St. Valentine’s tide.” He confessed, having been still in France at the time. “Mayhaps you will enlighten me with sordid tales of how the palace was so that I might accompany you in comparison’s sake.” He insisted, not really making it a request despite his use of mayhaps. 

     An invitation to ride with her was unexpected, and the prospect of a friendship even more so. Curiosity piqued, and given that he could not in good conscience make up a reason to decline given that he too intended to ride, he offered her a curt nod. “It will make suitable time for you to regal me with tales of your experience at English court. It will serve me well to know more details of this foreign palace.” He agreed, pretending it was for duty’s sake. 

[henriofvalois]

juanaofspain‌:

Juana had been surprised to hear a voice behind her, as she walked along the path that led to both the archery grounds and the stables, wanting to check on her horse Armonia. Turning around, she looked over he shoulder at who had started to speak and she smiled at the man. The princess could see that his question had been the result of deep thought from the expression on his face and she stopped walking, to turn and face him as she thought it was more polite to speak to him face-to-face. 

“I don’t know who you are speaking of, but I’d like to think that Christ does not only command us to refrain from things. I think that there is a pure joy that comes from certain activities that can only be explained as a gift from the heavens.” she said, thinking of the way her own parents had raised her, and how they always told her that she should be thankful for every time she experienced happiness, for it was a gift that God bestowed on her. Juana looked at the bow in his hand, observing how naturally he was holding it, and deducing that the man in front of her enjoyed the sport in a similar way to how she enjoyed riding. “I think that archery is a beautiful sport, it would be a shame to never do it again. But, the real question that is of any importance is whether or not it is something that you enjoy doing. For if it is something you enjoy I would encourage you to forget what others say and do what makes you happy, as reckless as that might sound.” 

    Henri tucked his chin toward his chest, acknowledging her station rather quickly as they turned to conversation. That, and perhaps there was a part of him that was still but a child under her father’s thumb. Bitterness rose like bile, but he swallowed it back. She had no part in his woes, and he was a man grown now. He allowed his expression to soften just a bit as his hand brushed through his hair, scratching idly at his scalp. “I could never refrain from the sport permanently,” He clarified. “Only for this season of Lent which is upon us.” 

    He wasn’t sure why the whole thing felt silly now in the face of the Spanish infanta, but he let it roll off his shoulders like water. It didn’t matter what she thought of him, nor his interest or lack thereof in archery. “But you are clever and wise to consider both sides of the coin, if you will.” He acknowledged, not wanting to be entirely rude either. “Where are you heading, may I escort you?” He added, noting that she was walking alone which seemed peculiar given her status and the tension that seemed thinly veiled under the surface at English court. He missed France. 

[henriofvalois]

juandemendoza‌:

@henriofvalois

Juan’s planning had somewhat run away with him - it seemed a folly that he was setting in on such an elaborate game without being at all knowledgeable about one of the most vital pieces of it. The young Dauphin was, to Juan’s knowledge, an absolute wildcard. He knew nothing about him other than what had been passed down secondhand, but rumour had such a tendency to be untrue. He deemed it part of his job to place himself in the young prince’s path, so to speak, and so he did just that, requesting a meeting with him one evening after dinner.

“My Lord, I hope you will forgive the abruptness of this invitation, but I only just learned of your arrival, very welcome as it is, and I appreciate your meeting me.” He was nursing a cup of wine, studying the prince in the firelight. “His Majesty, the Emperor, sends his best wishes, and his desire to meet you, but naturally - he is a man who likes to know more of who he is to connect with.” He smiled blithely, taking in Henri’s face. “Have you found England pleasing thus far?”

   Admittedly, Henri had little desire to meet with Charles’ ambassador. He’d spent enough time under Charles’ thumb, and though he had been but a child and had been relatively well-treated, it did not sit comfortably in his chest. It had been a necessary trade--his father for him and his elder brother. All things considered, this meeting should have been between Juan and his elder brother, but his death had shaken the natural order of things and Henri had new duties to fulfill. When the invitation came to him, he hesitated for only a moment before nodding and sending the other man scurrying to accept the invitation on Henri’s behalf. 

      He sat now, relaxed posture hiding his discomfort as the firelight warmed him. He waved his hand dismissively, “You’ve other matters to attend to far more pressing than meeting with me, Ambassador.” He reassured, eyes narrowing just slightly at the mention of Charles. Did he send his best wishes and desire to meet him? They’d met before, unfortunately, but Henri had been a child then barely six years old. He was a man grown now. Much had changed. “I trust you will give His Majesty, the Emperor, a pleasant report on my behalf, including my desire to see him as well.” He responded, because he was supposed to. “England is thus far pleasing, but peculiar, non? I do wonder at the whereabouts of his majesty, King Henry. Your sovereign is not the only to overlook me. Mayhaps I ought to soon become offended?” He asked, a smirk spreading across his face in amusement. 

      “Are you yourself well acquainted with the English court?” He pondered, curiosity getting the best of him. 

[henriofvalois]

elizabethsblount‌:

  “I am pleased my words caused you no distress; men of your age are often displeased by such sentiments.” She spoke with her son’s familiar features pictured clearly; the quirk of his lips in the suppression of a smile, as he begged for her to consider him as a man, rather then a small boy. Henri possessed features which rendered him youthful, yet marked by the fact he had crossed into manhood. “Indeed, I have always been tempted by the bow, but have been denied the opportunity.” Elizabeth’s azure gaze was brightened by such a prospect, and despite herself, her figure straightened, as if her physical confirmation should accompany a verbal one. “If I am not troubling your grace, I greatly desire to serve as pleasant company with a bow of my own. At the very least, I shall mar trees with a misplaced arrow.” 

     “I have not had a mother nor her ladies to speak in such a matter for quite some time, countess. Mayhaps I am nostalgic.” He quipped, the edges of his lips pushing upward further into what could pass as a genuine smile. It didn’t trouble him to be spoken to as such, but he knew in other circumstances it most definitely would have. He didn’t as much care if the woman before him saw him as grown, he more so cared for his father’s opinion on the matter and that was a lost cause if he knew one. A laugh left him at her eagerness and he nodded in agreement before shouting for the armsman to join them. “Go and collect a suitable bow for the Countess.” He instructed, the word ‘quickly’ not leaving his lips but suggested by his tone as he gestured for Elizabeth to join him in front of the targets. 

    “Have you strung an arrow before?” He asked, not meaning to be condescending but it was highly plausible that he wouldn’t have had the opportunity before. If that were the case, he would take a few moments to demonstrate for her before loosing his own arrows. 

[henriofvalois]

cfmedici‌:

    -    Henry is missing. The rumours spreading through court were growing at an alarming rate, snowballing as they passed from tongue to tongue, gaining weight as each person added their own assumptions to the alarming absence which had everyone on edge. Caterina de’ Medici hadn’t had any gossip spoken to her personally but it was hard not to hear whispers which made her feel sick to her stomach. She had made it through breakfast, her mind racing with thoughts of what may have come of the man in question, before fear got the better of her and her feet carried her through the palace at quite a panicked rate; entirely unaware of just how wrong she had taken the rumours.

Thoughts running through her head were akin to those she had during the times Henri wrote to her whilst captive and she wrote to him in similar circumstances, fear plaguing her and causing a tightening in her chest, until a sight further ahead put a stop to it all. The corridor was empty apart from a figure ahead, caution made her slow in pace for a moment but never stopping entirely, and it didn’t take long before heels tapped loudly against the stone floor as Caterina rushed forward. “ Henri! ” Formality was lost as the Florentine only came to a stop right in front of the French Prince, arms raising instantly to wrap around his neck in an embrace - as she has wished she could do so many times when reading his letters in the past. “ There are whispers that a Henry was missing and I feared the worst. Are you well? Are you hurt? ”

@henriofvalois

       Henri’s eyes narrowed in concern as the young Florentine hurried toward him, any thought of formality for the sake of others forgotten at the fear in her voice. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms securely around her waist. One arm moved to smooth over her hair, hoping that the motion would be soothing. “Shh, Caterina. I am well. I am not hurt.” He reassured, thankful for the explanation however brief. Before the words came from her lips, he’d been ready to draw sword and protect her. Too often he’d been denied that ability, stuck in Spain, a mere princeling with no power to save her from the beasts that wished her harm. 

    He exhaled deeply, leaning so that he could brush his nose against her hair. He inhaled, committing her to memory without meaning to. “I am well.” He repeated, his voice soft and reassuring as his guards looked on. He was thankful they’d not drawn their own swords, that they’d been wise enough to assess the situation and correctly judge he was far from harm’s way. “The whispers speak of the English king. You are frightened still. Cosa posso fare? You will come to no harm whilst I am here, Caterina. I promise you that.” His words were firm, insistent, as he kept his hold on the petit woman. His own heart thundered in his chest, only now slowing at the recognition that she was alright. 

     “Come, I am heading to the apartment. You will sit with me until you are again calm. I’ll send for tea, and furs to warm you.” He commanded, lifting his head from hers as he gently reached down to her chin. His thumb held to her, guiding her to look up at him. “I will protect you, Caterina de Medici. Capisci?” He questioned, needing to see the acceptance in her eyes. How could he not desire such, when she had been a light in a very dark time? When she had written of riding with the Pope himself to his aid? He cherished her, in whatever way he was able. 

[henriofvalois]

cfboleyn‌:

    -    In all of the confusion surrounding the King of England’s whereabouts, it was safe to say that Anne was as confused and concerned as the next courtier; so much so that she was being somewhat forgetful. The fur collar from her cloak had been left in the lounge reserved for the French royal family after beginning her day in service of the Princess Georgette - a greater young woman she could not hope to serve - and during the quiet after most gathered for supper Anne followed a servant who took her to retrieve it from the same spot in which she had left it. With the collar returned to its rightful owner, Anne turned to leave the chambers when one of the doors to an adjoining room opened to reveal a sight which caused Mistress Boleyn to sweep into a curtsy at an instant. “ Your Highness, I apologise if I have caused an interruption - I thought most to be at supper. I beseech your forgiveness for my intrusion. ”

@henriofvalois

     “No, I do not wish to join my father for supper this eventide. You may tell him what you please.” Henri remarked, dismissing his servant without much more thought. He didn’t feel like supper at all, and would likely send for something small later that night. He paused, not expecting to see anyone in the chambers least of all Anne. He glanced around, expecting to see Georgette but realized they were alone. “Mistress Boleyn,” He commented, a soft smile gracing his lips though there was a hint of surprise in his voice. “You’ve caused no interruption. There is nothing to forgive.” He reassured. “Is there something I might assist you with?” He pressed, wondering at her purpose for being in the chamber. 

[henriofvalois]

margetudor‌:

     “Where is he?”  Margaret didn’t waste any time being the first to say it aloud.  She tried to keep her voice steady, a simple inquiry, but there was no masking the worry hidden among her tone and her eyes.  “Where is Henry?  It’s nearly noon.”  Her nephew was missing once again and it wasn’t a good sign.  She already heard rumors that he’d retired somewhere with the pressure getting to him, or worse, disappeared by no choice of his own.  Poison speculations, kidnapping by one of the other countries who lingered here, or some torture keeping him away.  She prayed it was by his own choice.  The last time a King disappeared…she didn’t want to think about it.  “He should be here by now or have appointed someone in his place,” she turned to the courtier next to her with some hope, but made no effort to lower her voice.  “What news have you heard about the King?”

    It was certainly an interesting situation Henri found himself in. He and his family, settled more or less comfortably in a foreign court with an absentee king. He’s spent a portion of his youth in captivity, something that he’d never forgotten, but if his memories served him correctly even that foreign court never went so long without an appearance or word from Charles V. Where was this foreign Henry, who had welcomed him to his court only to disappear altogether? Did he sense no danger in his actions? Henri could only surmise there was something else at play. Yet he knew better than to voice his speculations, to speak his curiosities. 

     He paused, looking to the Tudor woman with eyes softer than he meant them to be. “I’ve had no news of the King, regretfully. I had been eager to share in his company, I do hope his majesty has not found ill favor in my presence here at court?” He asked, out of politeness, of expectations. He would not gossip with Margaret Tudor over the well-being of the English king. He didn’t wish to start a war. 

[henriofvalois]

thexmaitresse‌:

She felt as if she wasn’t the adressat of his words. She shouldn’t be. And, since she moved to the french court, she promised herself not to avoid the company of King’s children at all cost. The anxiety was piercing her heartand freezing her to the spot whenever she saw Henri or his sister on the corridor. They were the living proof that their father was not good match for Claude in any way - he was a married man - not one, but twice - and his offspring were older than her. Whenever their paths crossed, Claude mother’s voice was coming back to her, like an echo : “ you should be ashamed of herself! you are no longer a daughter of mine! “ 

But father was delighted with the news of Claude becoming king’s mistress. Since his influence on court grew stronger he knew well how useful this conection might be to him, and what benefits may follow. 

As for now Claude left both her parents in France and followed the man who loved her to the land she’s never been to before. It all felt like a strange dream - not necessarily pleasant one, especially right now.

“ You are the dauphin , my lord, you may do as you please. “ Claude replied, her voice quiet but steady and, surprisingly, confident. “ But you must remember animals are your subjects as well. They deserve your mercy as well. “ 

Her eyes fell on the bow in his hand; for a moment she imagined him using it against her, and shiver run down her spine.

    Henri turned, regarding his father’s most precious whore with little more than a cursory glance. Her words were childish, which suited her in his opinion. A laugh, dark and filled with no amusement, escaped his lips as he set the bow down and rose to tower near her. “I am the dauphin, I may do as I please? I have your permission, madam?” He questioned, arms crossing over his chest as he studied her. He wouldn’t play nice with her, not when his thoughts had been about his mother and her ladies. She deserved better than this. 

     Hypocritical as he may be, he didn’t let it go at that either. “I must remember? Are these animals my subjects? Have I made claim of England as well?” He taunted, twisting her words before rolling his eyes. “I’m not setting out on a hunt, Claude. You would do well to care less for the painted targets and their woes.” He dipped, picking the bow up out of irritation and strung the arrow to loose it into the target he spoke of. Tension coiled deep in his neck as he ignored her, uncertain what more should be said. 

     “Has my father disappeared to other obligations?” He asked without so much as a glance back her way. “Or do you seek something from me?” 

[henriofvalois]

mariedelorraine‌:

     Marie had always admired Henri’s father, loving him as if he were her own.  Yet she knew the disconnect between a father and his son, and that their relationship had been particularly affected by the tolls of succession.  She didn’t have to worry about all of that now that she had younger brothers.  Maybe if she had been Claude de Lorraine’s only child things would be different.  Maybe she would understand in another way, and be able to offer some consolation beyond listening and being a friend.

     “She was always cautious, no?”  The duchess remembered a particular lady, likely the one in question and one even more strict than her own fairly strict, religious mother.  Antoinette de Bourbon always encouraged her children to practice the sport or at least gave no protest when Marie’s father took them out for a hunt.  Only once had her brothers been yelled at for destroying a poor farmer’s field.  “There is more to His teachings on that, I think.  Though they intended evil against you and devised a plot, they will not succeed. For you will make them turn their back; you will aim with your bowstrings at their faces.  Psalm twenty-one.  Verse eleven,”  she recited from her days in the convent, and knowing it was one of her family’s favorite verses.  She picked up another chalice to pour a drink for herself, and then refilled his wine as he tested the bow in hand.  “There’s no harm in a little practice, is there?  We won’t have to worry about the painted circle attacking back any time soon.”

      Henri’s features relaxed at Marie’s voice. He’d missed her dearly in his lonesome in France, even though he’d been caught up in a suitable amount of distractions and responsibilities. She was one of his longest friends, and it was refreshing to not have to explain. He didn’t need to describe the woman in question. “Oui, very cautious but well-intentioned in her lack of haste. She sought only to save my soul, God rest her own.” He looked ahead, knowing that saving his soul was no easy feat. He had been a troublesome child, always caught up in one mess or another. “I do miss her at times.” He admitted, looking back over to her. “I never thought I would admit to that.” He chuckled, fondness filling him. It was amazing how much he missed people when they were gone. 

      He listened as she recited the Scripture to him. A small smile tugged at his lips. It was not sport he was partaking in. Not truly. He was a man, a crown prince, and even before his brother’s passing, he would have lain down his life in service of France, but not without aiming his bow trying to defend her. “Did I tell you yet that I’ve missed you?” He questioned, easing the tension in his body. “You are too wise. Far wiser than the likes of me.” He complimented, lifting his goblet toward her before downing the crimson liquid. “God willing, the painted target will not grow tired of the constant abuse.” He laughed, “Will you stay to watch my practice? I desire we spend the day together.”      

[henriofvalois]

sarahtalbot‌:

She was aware of the way his eyes lingered and where and it certainly helped to improve her spirits, Sarah unable to hide her own expression of delight at his reaction, even if he seemed to try and rein himself in. “Oh, I see. We shall have to see how the game plays out, though I confess that your assessment may not be too far from base. I am always eager to test my skills.”

A grin playing on her features, she turned to start leading him toward the table she had set aside for the game. “Did you not know that to place a price upon a game is very much like the sin of gambling?” She teased him, nodding her head. “My name you may have for no price at all. I am Sarah Talbot. My father is the Earl of Shrewsbury - he was an advisor to our late King Henry and his father before him.” Sarah smiled, a gentle sort of pride in her expression before she picked up the deck of cards. “Do you have a fondness for any particular game, your Highness? I thought perhaps imperial might be appropriate, unless you should like to find others to join us? I do so prefer a game of two, but naturally I am at your command.” If the words were laced with any other meaning, Sarah herself would not confess it.

   Henri’s brow raised at her comment. Always eager to test her skills. No doubt, that referred to much more than a round of cards. He followed her to the table, moving to lower himself in the chair. He sat comfortably, his posture not the perfect stiffness that he was supposed to utilize. He didn’t see the point in it, he was permitted to be comfortable when he was just playing cards, wasn’t he? “Kind of you, Sarah Talbot, daughter of the Earl of Shrewsbury.” He smirked, repeating her name and station back to her. He was being playful, but it also helped him to commit the details to memory. 

     “I’ve no certain fondness for a particular game. Imperial will do appropriately.” He reassured, gesturing for her to ready the cards for them. “We needn’t trouble anyone else to witness my besting you at cards.” He chuckled, youthful in his competitiveness and his snark. “As you ready the cards, won’t you tell me of Shrewsbury? I have not had the privilege of traveling oft in these lands.” 

[henriofvalois]

georgetteofvalcis‌:

                   ––          The mention of Christendom upon her brother’s tongue was perhaps rarer than the sight of a bumblebee in the midwinter, and just as capable of stinging. She approached the crown prince with stealth, little giving her away save for the rustling of her damask shirts as she emulated a lioness stalking through the tall grass, listening acutely to Henri’s navel-gazing admissions. Georgette’s hands darted out to capture the chalice he set aside as it teetered precariously on the edge of the table whilst Henri’s attentions diverted to the bow resting in his palm. As cold air eddied within the cavernous chambers of her lungs, the princess released a sigh of relief, joining her brother at his side and perching her hands upon the lithe expanse of her waist. 

                “ At the risk of evoking the rage of Madam d’Ailly’s phantom? If it is a gamble you are willing to take, by all means… ” Georgette countered in their native French dialect, her tongue clicking with thinly-veiled disapproval. A slippered foot stepped forward, granting her the liberty of leaning down and inspecting the exquisite wood design. “ Will you teach me, brother? I am no natural archeress and I should think the distraction would do us both good. Only you must promise not to throw a tantrum when I inevitably best you. ”

       “You appear like a viper in the grasses, sister. It is not couth of you to sneak about.” He chided, but there was a distinct lack of bite to his words, no matter their tone. The prince was contemplative, deep enough in thought to be undisturbed by his sister’s sudden presence, and lacking the energy and desire to meet her with the typical ire with which he often greeted her. “There are many phantoms in these halls, and in our own.” He protested, a sadness washing over his eyes albeit briefly. France had lost much in his childhood, but his father would restore them to prosperity beyond anything they’d ever known, he’d rule for decades longer and Henri could be perched on the outside, ready for the inevitable long from now. 

      He turned at last to look her over, his brow rising at the suggestion that he’d throw a tantrum, that she’d best him. A deep sigh left his lips as he lifted his hand, gesturing for the servant to fetch a smaller bow for Georgette. As much as his sister may protest, there was little skill in handling a bow twice the proper size for one’s height. It would do naught but injure her arm and jeopardize her chance at truly learning. “I am feeling generous, dear sister. If you listen well and heed my instruction, we may yet see you loose your arrow into a target.” 

[henriofvalois]

cfmedici‌:

    -    Whenever a man was seen staring so intently at a bow it was usually due to focus, practicing his aim before releasing an arrow in a bid to perfect the shot, but never had Caterina heard such a moral debate occurring over a sport. It almost amused her as she drew near. Spring hung in the air and yet she still bundled herself under a thick cloak - the absence of the warmer air from the peninsula not at all being lost upon her, but she dared not allow a chill to hold her hostage indoors; never again.

“ To practice a sport is to honour a gift from God, to share it with those around you, and I see no harm when done so in moderation. These are times of reflection and thanks; though I do not believe our Lord had the luxury of your bow during his days in the desert for his forty days and nights. ” A defined brow peaked and a smile curved upon Caterina’s lips as she seemingly acted only as devil’s advocate opposed to offering an actual solution, before hands tucked together before her and she looked to survey the scenario a moment. “ I see no harm if you loose your arrow, I shall not tell a soul, though if it is your soul you fear for then perhaps your penance shall be to self-deny of another pleasure greater than this. I will pray for your soul also, my lord, though I do not believe one arrow would harm you so. ”

     Her words met Henri’s ears but did not seem to process in his mind. He could do naught but stare at the young woman before him. It felt an eternity as he drank in the young Lady. He’d seen her portrait before, but never had he had the privilege of meeting Caterina in the flesh. He’d written her countless letters, and had thought of a voice to match the words written on parchment, but he’d never heard it from her lips. “Caterina,” He spoke, voice low and wistful as if he wasn’t quite sure she was truly there. After a moment, he collected himself, palm moving to rest at the nape of his neck as he tried to shake the embarrassment of being so caught off guard. 

     “Madonna de Medici, you are wise beyond your years, as prudent and favorable in counsel in the flesh as you are by letter.” His lips edged upward into a smile as he bent his head toward her, hand moving to request her palm so that he might lay his kiss upon her skin. “I was unaware you were in England, my lady, but what a pleasant surprise is this. You are, of course, correct in your presumptions. I shall loose my arrow, if you will be most gracious as to stay and converse with me, else I would be more pleased to accompany you in whatever endeavors you choose.” 

[henriofvalois]

elizabethsblount‌:

 It was natural for ones eyes to settle onto the face of known royalty; solemnly she regarded the French prince, her tongue plastered to the roof of her mouth as to render herself silent. Elizabeth knew not how he felt of this examination; if it caused him trepidation or unease, he did not reflect these sentiments across his countenance. She knew he spoke of the late Queen; if only for the fact that few are spoke of in such grave reflection, then a departed mother. The passage of time did little to quell Bessie’s own heart ache over the loss of her own, though she learned to find appeasement in the quelling of others sufferings. 

    “I cannot claim any moral authority that may rival the Queen’s, your grace; little is more divine then the instruction of the mother. But in the wake of such turmoil and unrest in our kingdoms, it may be prudent to reach for the bow.” His desire to observe the commandment’s of his departed mother was curious, in the best manner - few obeyed their mothers in life, yet alone once they left the Earth. Elizabeth’s own affairs stunted her knowledge of the inner-workings of courts abroad, leaving her relatively unfamiliar with Henri’s matters. “Forgive me, if I dare to speak too far out of turn - my maternal sentiments never fail to derail my sensibilities.” 

   Henri regarded Elizabeth coolly for a moment, in quiet contemplation as the woman spoke and offered her advice, but his features soon smoothed, softening for familiarity’s sake if not the subsequent permission to loose his arrow. He didn’t need permission, of course, but he’d asked for opinion and was grateful for it, and moreover pleased by the desired response. “You speak not out of turn, I shan’t fault you your maternal sentiments.” He dismissed, adjusting his grasp on the bow. It was soothing, but he didn’t wish to be rude. 

     “Do you desire to observe, countess?” He asked, wondering if she enjoyed witnessing the sport of if perhaps she indulged herself. His fingers spread across the smooth wood, “I might send for a bow for you, should you desire further.” He offered. 

[henriofvalois]

hrhkingfrancis‌:

Giving his son a look at the implications that were presented, Francis rolled his eyes. “Of course I was among them, Henri.” he said shaking his head at the notion that he would not wish for his safe journey. Francis rang a bell that was stationed at his desk, to call in the blacksmith that he’d procured to construct a new sword for his son, a gift to welcome him to England after a long and arduous journey from home. In the same way that he had brought the gowns for Georgette, he hoped that the small token would please Henri. “A small gift that I hope you will find useful. I thought it was about time that you had a sword fit for the next King of France.” 

Francis took a moment then, to admire the look of the sword in his son’s hand, as it looked like a good fit, and it fit him well. But then talk of business and the pressing matters that filled his desk in that very moment brought him back to state affairs after a moment of fatherly affection. “I am here to consider the fact that there may be prospects here that would greatly suit France for the better, and we would be fools not to take advantage of that.” Francis shook his head, “we can discuss the particulars at a different time, but we need to keep our options open. If there is an alliance that would suit France better than what Florence can offer, it is in our best interest to entertain the more beneficial coupling.” Sighing, Francis realized that it was probably not the best way to reunite with his son, to instantly speak of state affairs and marriage alliances, and he got up from behind his desk, circling it to take a hand to Henri’s shoulder. “As difficult as it was to get you here in front of me, will you be equally as unyielding if I ask you to join me for a hunt this afternoon? I can see that we are alike in the fact that you suffer from restlessness from the long journey and I’ve found that a hunt and fresh air is a perfect remedy. We will talk about all of this when you are more rested.” 

   Henri knew it was unfair to meet his father with such suspicion about his desire for his son’s well-being, but deep down he knew it wasn’t as unfair as Francis thought it to be. After all, had he not known from childhood that he was secondary? He had spent the entirety of his youth knowing that while he could benefit France, he was not the one that mattered most, and should God or his father find cause, he would be cast aside in favor of those who mattered more. The course of his life had changed dramatically, of course, but he could not shake the formation of his mind so easily. He remained silent as his father rang the bell, eyes looking to the sword that his father presented him as a gift. His chest tightened somewhat at the reminder that he needed a sword fit for the future King of France, and not just a duke. He took the gift, feeling the weight of the sword in his hand as he moved to stand so that he might fully examine it. He adjusted his grip, feeling the balance. It was a beautifully crafted sword and he knew it was no ‘small’ cost, as his father may have suggested. “Thank you, father.” He offered, setting the sword aside for now. “It must be christened.” He commented, wondering what opportunity would present to do just that. 

     Henri’s quiet awe at the sword, a display of the boy he had always been, faded as talk of business returned. It was a pity, for a moment he looked the way he did when he was little, when the world was still wide and filled with things to explore, when gifts from his father made him feel like the most important prince in all the world. “I am not a fool, my King” He insisted, careful to transition from ‘father’ to ‘my King’ as thickness coated his tongue. “Do not think me a child unfamiliar with the realities of prospects given my current freedom to be wed to whomever best suits France, but I think we should not so easily forget Caterina nor the wealth of the Medici.” He explained, arms tightening across his chest. 

    He fought to keep the exhale of relief from leaving his lips as his father stood and cupped his shoulder. A hunt would be far superior to further discussing his marriage prospects. He did not want anymore changes of that caliber. He wanted stability. Though he wouldn’t admit it, he also wanted his father’s attention, not as a movable piece in the game they played, but from the bond of father and son. A hunt should allow that. “I am pliable to such a suggestion.” The edge of his lip twitched into a smirk. “It is my duty, non, to sacrifice my desires for such an outing?” He quipped, hoping to lighten the tone again as he joked about how rough it would be to go on a hunt with his father. Sarcasm dripped from his tongue like honey, smooth and sweet. 

[henriofvalois]

sarahtalbot‌:

@henriofvalois

Sarah tried to tell herself that she had learned her lesson about reaching beyond her grasp. After all, where had it landed her but in a state of perpetual frustration? Some part of her - that part that hoped for grandeur - was losing much hope that she would ever achieve much of anything except to be a failed mistress and perhaps, if she were lucky, a marchioness at best.

But somehow, that didn’t stop her eyes from wandering, nor from landing on the newly arrived Dauphin of France. Of course ladies all around court had been chattering about him and it was hard not to see why. So perhaps, in a last ditch effort to prove to herself that she was, in fact, desirable, at least to someone, she placed herself into his path. She curtsied, low, in her best imitation of a demure lady of the court, intrigued to see what sort of woman this prince preferred. “My Lord, I am sure that you are very busy, but - I have been searching all evening for someone who might play against me at a game of cards. I should hate to make any assumption - do you play?”

   Henri’s eyes swept over the woman who curtsied before him. He wasn’t at all unused to being curtsied to, but he hadn’t expected to come across the new face. His eyes softened as he drank her in, doing little to hide the fact that he was appreciating her figure. Mentally, he chided himself, finally lifting his eyes to meet hers. The season of Lent was upon them, he should have known better than to appreciate the flesh as he did. He gestured for her to rise again, “You are considerate, my Lady, you’ve not overstepped nor assumed incorrectly. I’d like nothing more than to best you in cards,” A smirk tugged at his lips at the confidence, arrogance in his tone. Youthful tongue, promising valor, he did take after his father in his youth didn’t he? 

    “You will forgive me though, my Lady, if I place a price upon our game. Should we play, I would be most honored if you would present me the gift your name. I do not believe we have been acquainted.” He commented, trying to place the woman but unsure of her identity outside of her evident status. He could guess a countess perhaps, but he couldn’t be certain. He knew it was unwise to continue forward without knowing her name and title. God help him if he continued in blissful ignorance, he’d never hear the end of it with his father or his father’s incessantly annoying advisers.