ours is the fury

[jamestudor]

JAMES –– WEEK TEN

post count this week ( 22/03 to  28/03 ) : n. of replies  ( 2 )

point gained: 2  points  per  in-character  replies

point allocation: influence + 2

HEALTH TOTAL: 84/150

influence : 22

intelligence : 20

wealth : 15

luck : 7

physical : 20

[jamestudor]

lovelesslettrs‌:

time always ticked by a little too quickly. mariana never ceased to feel trapped, preparing since the day of luciana’s passing for the day where she becomes nothing but a wife. any plans of greatness slipped into an abyss, left untouched. it was the reality of her life, like many others, and she could only hope that her brother held enough care or integrity to spare her some miserable life. but this was never about affection, it was a business transaction for spain’s benefit and for whomever ends up taking her hand in marriage. she was never blessed with the ignorance to forget such a thing. 

until recently a name had never been placed to her unknown future, allowing the grief for her lost sister to hold off a little longer. she’ll always miss her like a lost limb but not even luciana’s memory can spare any fate now. alonso could only be so patient with her. he told her everything he could prior to today but there was only so much information she could be given — and it wasn’t much. perhaps it was better that way but no one could blame her curiosity. after all she still was not positive how to process the reality of the situation, even if it was staring her in the face. an eventual marriage.

optimism had not been something mariana was blessed with, she was not graced enough with the patience and enchantment of her younger sister however she knew when to give up her stubbornness. holding onto something that would bare issue was not worth the disapproval of her family, nor worth sacrificing what chance she had at normalcy or disadvantaging her country. if she entered this with a closed mind, it would get both of them nowhere so with an ounce of optimism she agreed to meet him. 

preoccupying herself with harmless chatter to settle her nerves, mariana painted on a smile that gradually became genuine. being with her family again and knowing teresa was well made the tightness in her chest ease. amber hues fall upon him and it dawns upon her that she was unsure of what to expect. he’s much taller than she imagined, handsome too. “ to no fault of your own, things have been chaotic as of recent. it’s a pleasure to meet you, finally. “ her gaze drops to the flowers in hand and she’s pleasantly surprised — mariana is still unsure what to make of any of this.  delicate fingers grasp the bouquet and carefully string along the edges of the colorful petals.  “ they are quite beautiful, thank you. “ 

his mind spirals from only two sentences spoken, analysing her tone and features as if it might give him some context to work within.   ❛  you are very welcome,  ❜  he reciprocates, ducking his eyes from hers.  ❛  i thought we might pick some fruit for this evening, god himself knows i can’t stand idle hands,  ❜  his fingers splay dramatically before condensing to fists. it was true, since boyhood, the moment james knew there were stakes riding upon the things he said, his hands became writing and agitated. his mother hated it, quick to mind his flaws she often reminded him that no man should see him squirm. but she was no man.

 ❛  i am relieved to see your family intact. i heard teresa and tomas had been stranded beyond the gates, god must favour your family kindly to ensure they both made it back alive.  ❜

he reaches for the basket by his feet, looping it in the bend of his elbow as he glanced down at her.   ❛  of course, i wish it had been more pleasant festivities to summon you here. but if i am to speak frankly, i am glad to see you here regardless. it had not been my intention to speak with your brother so intimately before i had a chance to speak with yourself.   ❜  

[jamestudor]

giovannamedici‌:

in truth it was not pride that hurt but her heart. to any other perhaps to be rejected by the heir of england was to be life-breaking. giovanna had known since her birth that if she were to marry anyone it would be out of prosperity and to maximise the support of the medici and their worldly trades. and though marriage was a token of business she had always thought that her heart and her love was free to do what it so liked. and then, even then, she found herself weeping for an opportunity lost. with his explanation of rules and his birthright ( and by extension the mighty inheritance of his kingdom ) giovanna tried to undersatnd. but in actual fact she could barely listen, her ears full with the pumping of blood, her palms moist with sweat. 

perhaps he would hate her for what she did next, as her body took ahold of her heart and did just what it wanted. and perhaps it was all too extreme for her, but her heart once more took over the reigns from her brain and so she turned to take his face into her hands - her touch was soft and gentle, cradling his features before she kissed him with as much passion as she could muster. even her tears that left her cheeks wet transferred to his own - her ankle crying to a deaf crown as she only explored her own feelings, her whims and aspirations. perhaps they would not part as lovers but friends instead. it was only when giovanna pulled back to breath did she blink and muster her tongue to talk. 

“james tudor, please forgive me. and do not apologise for such talk on your part. i understand. you are so, so important for the future of our world and i would not dare to ask you to stray. but, my heart is as stubborn as one may come. and i insist only to act as your partner for as long as you may allow me to be. to act as your confidante, your friend… but for now, i wish to indulge you. to answer your wishes, your dreams… wouldn’t it be something, james? to act as souls who do not carry the weight of a country on such shoulders? if only for as long as this treaty may last.” 

james caught her kiss by the sheer miracle of chance rather than foresight. her lips warm and welcoming against his own, so suddenly, he almost jerked back in sheer surprise at the touch. he wasn’t a stranger to women. at thirty years old, more than a man grown, it took much from a woman to shock him. and her brazenness did, in fact, stun him. he’d expected her to loathe him, to storm from the room in a huff of wounded pride but she kissed him thoughtlessly, whoever may stroll through his dwellings be damned. it was only that knowledge that sobered him, as he reluctantly pulled back, already frustrated with himself that he’d shifted at all from her. the last thing he needed were words rushing round that the prince of england had insulted the virtue of florence’s daughter.

his eyes bounced around the room, averting from her soft pleading gaze to take in the fortunately empty surrounding.   ❛  i don’t understand,  ❜  he mumbles, no part of him coherent enough to be willfully coy. she stood before him, offering him a remedy to one of his deepest fears. she would ensure that his life was not spent in misery, that his children would not glance between the and wish for a moment of peace, they would not stray in search of love in easier places because their home would foster it wisely. she could be everything–– everything but security for his kingdoms.  ❛  my lady, what of your honour ?  ❜  he asks, shaking his head to refuse before his words can betray his temptation   ❛  what of mine, should i accept ?  ❜

[jamestudor]

JAMES –– WEEK NINE

post count this week ( 15/03 to  21/03 ) : n. of replies  ( 4 )

point gained: 4  points  per  in-character  replies 

point allocation:  intelligence + 1, luck + 3

HEALTH TOTAL: 82/150

influence : 20

intelligence : 20

wealth : 15

luck : 7

physical : 20

[jamestudor]

@lovelesslettrs​ // 𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒂𝒏𝒂 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒂 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏

LOCATION: the fruit orchards

james had in some sense, placed the horse before the cart. his betrothal propositions had come long before he’d met the woman he was arranging to marry–– in more ways that one, it showed plainly his political ambition rather than lust or affection. to some that may have been taken as a slight, but james had wagered a man such as alonso, who sought to conquer the world, would be forgiving of such frankness of motive. the infanta had not travelled with her family, only the youngest daughter arriving in their initial entourage. in a way, it had made the task easier. to talk himself up and secure a political alliance while matters of the heart were on the backburner. now that she had arrived and grieving had strolled into spring, he knew he must meet her. woo her as much as he did her brother. a far more daunting proposition.

if he loathed her, it would change nothing. he would still need spain in the fold. he’d marry her regardless, which dampened his spirit each time he learned a little more of her. solemn, devout, lifeless even if his men were to be believed. when giovanna de medici sat waiting for him, it stroked nothing but misery to think of duty. to know that he might have her, but only at the cost of spain. still, he was anne tudors son and arrangements made were arrangements kept.

his invitation to the orchards was reciprocated and for that at least he was thankful. if she outright refused to meet with him from the jump, this would be a neverending chore. he stood, flowers in hand, guards shadowing him as they had since the attack–– he would not shirk anytime soon certainly. he’d seen the younger sister, flowers in her hair and always chattering. it seemed a bouquet would be an appropriate gift at the least. amaryllis to signify beauty, anthurium for hospitality, a white chrysanthemum for truth and loyalty, white heather for wishes to come to fruition, orange lily for passion and queen anne’s lace for his mother.

he noticed her finally- prettier than he might of thought, enough to stand straighter beneath the apple tree.   ❛  alteza, i can only apologise for the ill-timing of our introduction it’s been an unpredictable period but i am thankful to meet with you at last,  ❜  ever anne’s boy, his words were little more than entirely courtesy. his arm extended to her, flowers in hand.  ❛  these are for you, to soothe my poor manners.  ❜  

[jamestudor]

ofleuchtenberg‌:

closed starter for: @jamestudor​ event: honey gathering

A small group had gathered to watch king Diebold’s men collect honey. The frames of honey were impressive, especially since Matthias had never seen honey cells in the flesh. They were intricate and as the heated knife was used to unseal the honey cells, it was mesmerizing. The honey had dripped into a bucket and then put into jars for the guests to take to which Matthias had taken two jars, one for himself and one for his wife. He dipped his finger into his own jar and the taste was unlike anything. Of course he had honeyed wine or biscuits but as fresh as this, no it was a more clear taste. It was a little bit fruity and earthy at the same time and smelt a little like fresh grass.  “If you are going to taste I would suggest some toasted bread or even some tea,” he smiled at the brunette man. He had never seen the man before but judging from his clothing, he was a noble at the very least.

james hated bees. a ridiculous thought for a future king, but more than spiders or rats or any other sort of pest that might stir the stomach, he loathed bees. ever since he’d disturbed a wild hive as a boy, luckily escaping with only six stings to show for it, he’d hated even the aggressive noise of them. but he figured the jars would make for sweet gifts, sweet enough evidently to suffer through his paranoia.  ❛  be honest with me, my friend. is it any better than what i might find with breakfast or is it novelty that gives it it’s flavour ?  ❜  he asks, dripping with scepticism.   ❛  truly the taste is too rich for me, never been much a man for sweets.  ❜  

[jamestudor]

giovannamedici‌:

her heart tore in many directions. was she happy to think that he was bound to get married? was she glad to know that decisions were out of her head and somewhere else? her heart burst, her skin alight, her hair on end. rubbing her lips together, giovanna peeked down to her skirts instead and wound her fingers around a loose thread, as if the motion alone would soothe her heart from beating against her ribcage. there was guilt that riddled amongst her; she had no right to feel such emotion for a man who had only ever met her out of casual means. 

and so, after only a second or so, giovanna straightens her back and looks toward james with care; watching his features, his expression or a tell that may slip lies through the net. and though there was no formal relationship between them, giovanna was speechless. and instead, as if words could not cut it, the italian reaches forward to lay her hand over his own. her soft and warm touch covered his own, fingers daring to caress without taking his hand fully. 

“you must put your kingdom first, i understand that —” giovanna confessed, her cheeks blushed to a shade of rose as she runs her fingertips along his knuckles with soft, sweet touches. “and whatever may occur i hope to remain not only your friend but a trusted companion for the future. but, also… james — i only ask for honesty. pure, uncut honesty. for i ask you now, do i stand here as a potential or nothing at all?” with her eyes almost wet, giovanna turned to face the prince fully and held her breath before exhaling as she mustered what strength was left over. “because, in truth james, i fear my heart whispers your name and i must know what to do with such whispers now or my emotions will all but engulf me.” 

 ❛  yes. you have always had potential.  ❜  he’d expected her to leave in a huff, infuriated and insulted that his attention had strayed to another. affection, most ladies swallowed that insult and looked the other way when their husband’s did stray, but this was not a physical rejection. in society, it was worse. her worth had been measured politically, the pro’s and con’s of an alliance with more than just herself, but the tudors and the de medici, and been found wanting. there was little he could do to soften the sting of that bite. the scald that game with knowing that he could love her as deeply as any poet but it relevancy to their relationship would forever moot. instead of anger, she placed her hand over his and his stomach turned unpleasantly with the shame that began to burn.

 ❛  i do not wish to lead you a stray. to give false promises. my ascension will not be easy. i will inherit my mother’s enemies and a country of men who despise me under thumb. scotland may rebel and my kingdom will face threats from within and without. when that time comes, i will need money. i will need men. i will need a great deal of support from powerful friends, and alonso stands that test.  ❜  he was bred for this, as much as any sister of his. his marriage was destined to be entrenched in duty. look at his mother, queen of england and still ridden like a broodmare, whelping princes and princesses to a man she despised.  ❛  my affection for you is... more than i anticipated. but if i am reckless, my people will be reckless.  ❜

 ❛  perhaps spain will not come to the table, and alonso simply wastes my time–– i do not know. but i won’t expect you to wait at heel for that moment either.  ❜

[jamestudor]

rosaliadebarcelos‌:

“how unfortunate,” rosalia frowned, her attention returning to the water once more as she dipped an index finger to feel the cool water brush against her skin. and as quickly as she had put her finger in, she pulled back, turning her attention fully to the prince. one hand gripped her elbow as the other arm was propped upward to her face, her palm resting on her cheek as she looked at him inquisitively. “sharks have rough skin?” 

she had never touched any sea creatures before aside from fish so she could only wonder about how a shark felt. 

“tell me the story of how you know,” her eyes widening in wonder. she hoped he wasn’t lying or jesting, it’d be a shame since the idea itself sounded fascinating. “did you get to see their teeth? I’ve heard from fishermen that they’re massive enough to kill a whole human!” the sight of blood made her queasy and thus she only heard of the tales. she didn’t have the stomach to see any sort of animal slaughter herself. she hoped the prince didn’t think her completely odd. though even if she did, she wouldn’t be offended, her quirkiness was a special trait - or at least that’s what her father and siblings would say. 

       she looked bright and curious, something he enjoyed truthfully. while his own sister was not so endearing with her curiosities, it did remind him of margaret. she’d loved his stories, at least she had a thousand years ago when he was a still a boy who searched for dragon eggs in every stone. fortunately, life had dulled his fancies.  ❛  aye, you would expect them to be slippery. but they are not. ❜

 ❛  it was during my time with the royal armada, once the meats began to run scarce they’d fish with thick nets. pulled a shark into one. when they hauled it aboard–– after it stopped it’s thrashing about, i could touch it. was not what i thought it might feel like, i assure you.  ❜  james nodded eagerly.   ❛  oh definitely, he was large. bigger than myself laying down. some of the men insisted they’d seen them three times as large. i doubt it though, no man’s honest about the size of the catch.  ❜    

[cortegiania]

Lorenzo, no!

[jamestudor]

JAMES –– WEEK EIGHT

post count this week ( 08/03 to  14/03 ) : n. of replies  ( 5 )

point gained: 5  points  per  in-character  replies + 1 bonus point 

point allocation:  wealth + 4, intelligence + 1, physical + 1

HEALTH TOTAL: 78/150

influence : 20

intelligence : 19

wealth : 15

luck : 4

physical : 20

[jamestudor]

gaelicstatues‌:

there was no way to react now that the softness once reserved had gone. what was he meant to do to a son who had always been under the influence of his much grander mother? was he meant to embrace him? kiss his face and call him a son? patrick had tried all of that when he was younger, but despite it all anne had prevailed. so he found solace in his others instead; young arthur and younger margaret. he had hoped that such love was enough to stop him from feeling the lonely space above james’ head.. but you could never replace one child with another, that came all too clear when david was born.

“no fear — we heard little of what happened, your ma thought is wise to send me in her stead for now,” patrick answered, his shoulders squared as he held his waist with elbows pointed — his very visage big and bold, an image cultivated long ago within the bony hills of scotland. even then his nostrils flare as he exhales there is little thought on james and his own despair towards his father’s arrival. he was sure he was upset to find patrick rather than his mother — but neither could change the situation and would rather just have to deal with it as james’ mouth lifts into the smallest of smirks.

a part of him wished to talk openly with the first child of england, the other parts begged him not to. to disturb the peace on day one would only cause chaos unneeded for the court, which always tried it’s best to retain a stiff upper lip. so he moved instead, walking past james to inspect the rooms — one finger outstretched to swipe against the nearest trunk, sucking on his teeth at the swiss design. “ha, he must be the first man to ever go against anne tudor’s wishes — he will be in trouble, that’s right. but that can come when needs be it. for now, i thought you and i could talk,” taking a chance, he turned to face james — inhaling slowly before releasing with the puff of his cheeks. it took pride to apologise, it took the bigger man to make the first move. “i’m sorry james, for not bein’ here when the stones fell. i should’a been here. with you and arthur — it’s poor of me, aye. but if you should need me now, i’m here.”

it never occurred to his conscious mind to be angry with his mother over the schism between himself and patrick. it manifested in other ways he supposed. the paralytic fear that he himself would sire children with a hateful wife, that they’d choose and divide. that brother would turn on brother to impress either party, that he would make their lives miserable by proxy alone. he and arthur had been inseparable for a time until lines of loyalty were drawn and resentments were handed down hereditarily. even now, as that itching rejection gnawed at him, it was only his father in the crossfire. only scotland’s pride to blame. ❛  she is not coming ?  ❜  he verifies neutrally. it made sense, that he could not deny. she might have lost two heirs in an instant, the queen herself could not be risked on foreign soil.

he bristles a little at patrick’s amusement, dissatisfied with any enjoyment taken in his mother’s disrespect. he and arthur had laughed themselves in their panic, but if felt wrong to hear it from her husband, perhaps most of all because he knew how much she’d loathe to hear the words. even still, he stays quiet and cautious. his tutors referred to it only as english refinement; to be courteous even when vexed.

his composure, that only moments prior he had considered unshakable, faltered for a fleeting moment as patrick rounded on him with sincere eyes. an apology, was not expected. matter of fact, he had anticipated it to be demanded of him for his failures when appointed to treat in anne’s place. his arms folded over his chest securely, his brows furrowed in confusion.  ❛  you could not have known.  ❜  perhaps the only absolution he’d ever given his father. not even james could fault his inaction; how could any of them had known ? anne had known.  ❛  if you’d been here, you might have just been fodder in the end. luck was on our side that night, it served us better than a father or a soldier alike.  ❜  

had patrick been in attendance, james might never have thought to go after arthur. who knew if he might have died beyond the gates, trampled and bleeding. perhaps james himself might have been injured in the fires had he bolted for the stables as he originally planned. for all patrick’s faults and virtues, it was better he had been absent. ❛  my wrist is healing, the rest of me is more or less intact. arthur will need you.  ❜  

[jamestudor]

rosaliadebarcelos‌:

@jamestudor​

the springtime festivities were lovely and a much needed distraction from all the events that had occurred prior. since her arrival from portugal, she had mostly kept to herself but there was always a bit of curiosity with the other foreign dignitaries that had participated in the swiss retreat. thus, she found herself accompanied by the english crown prince. while other girls would’ve positively gasped to be in the company of another royal, rosalia was far too invested in the things around her than the prince himself. 

he rowed the boat while she peered over the wooden boat’s edge, smiling as she caught the glimpses of sparkling water which revealed the moving tales of fish. she had sworn off eating meat and had done the same with ocean creatures. though much of this choice was in lieu to the wealth and privilege that afforded her such an option. she glanced in wonder, entranced by the colorful scales of what looked like yellow perch, the iridescent hues flickering like gold itself. she turned to her partner with a smile on her face, “have you ever seen such pretty fish before your highness?” 

how long had she been ignoring him ? he’d cottoned on about two and a half minutes ago, though he suspected it had been going on far longer than he knew. his pride thankfully intact, he found the humour in it. occasionally slipping nonsense into his sentences to see if she’d notice him at all when fat trout slithered by.   ❛  ––the lion swallowed the child whole, but otherwise a lovely day.  ❜  she turned to him with a wide grin, for a moment he thought she may have caught him in his teasing, instead, she quizzed him only on the sea creatures.

 ❛  no, never. my countries fish are lacking, most look like little monsters,  ❜  he admits with an easy shrug. the boat a pretty shade of purple and thankfully rowed by someone with better than himself.   ❛  i have seen a shark, however. did you know they had rough skin ? most unpleasant to touch.  ❜

[jamestudor]

giovannamedici‌:

giovanna was utterly and totally overwhelmed with her intermixed thoughts as she stood before james and the servant who left with haste at the gesture from his highness’ own hand. before, when living amongst her home of florence, she had always found informality ease and preference. but amongst the ones of noble blood giovanna found herself falling for formality over the casual options. in fact, she felt entirely infantile compared to the royal houses that lived by the golden purses of the medici. and if he were to ask on such queries, she would answer with honesty — truth spilling from her lips as easily as lies to an unrighteous soul. truthfully, she had not wished to stop by james tudor in case she allowed her thoughts and feelings to roam all too freely. 

yet, despite it all, she smiled. her smile small and joyous as she reached forward to sit by his side. with her ankle at rest and her heart all a flutter, the italian noblewoman leaned upon the cushions and met his eye with little retaliation from her own self. “my ankle is healing, they told me to keep to my bed but i find it so boresome… that, and i fear i will miss out on something,” giovanna confessed, a slight teeter of laugher spilling from her mouth before one hand goes to hide her lips, her fingertips touching wet flesh as her green eyes obsess over the muted colours of his hues — wondering if he had inherited such colour from his mother. 

they sit side by side as friends and allies, and though giovanna had only ever entertained the idea of marriage to the tudor in the hope to bring herself to a higher platform AND to marry someone who carried a kind soul, she had found her thoughts always drifting to him. he came to her in waves; sometimes it was pure and innocent, other times she thought of him as she had once taken lovers within her florentine chambers. her cheeks blossomed to a rose hue as she darted her eyes down to stare obsessively into her lap, her fingers curled to hide her fingernails, or to simply fixate on anything but james. “me either, but it bring happiness to find you here,” she confessed, english somewhat common to her tongue as she spoke, her blood pumping amongst her ears as if to remind her of both gossip and true emotions. 

“it is funny that i find you here, james. i had just heard some others talk off you and…” she paused, unwilling to let go off the words as if silence would silence the truth at all. yet she uncurls her tongue and lifts her eyes to meet his with both sincerity and curiosity. there was no need for her to feel such ENVY towards his marriage plans, after all, whatever was cooked up between them was built solely for their respective countries, right? “…there is talk of you having chosen your bride, james. is it true?” 

james did not know whether she was telling the truth or if giovanna simply did not do well with being told what to do, but either way he had seen the realities of ill-mended breaks. one of the maids had taken a stumble down the castle steps while carrying too heavy of a basket, she’d never walked right again. forever complaining about the ache.  ❛  don’t strain yourself, my lady. if you wished for company, i would be happy to arrange something to entertain you,  ❜  he boasted with a grin.  ❛  the actors, i mean, of course. our troop is still within the grounds for the next fortnight. they’re very good. they even made my mother cry once; i did not know that was entirely possible.  ❜

it vexed him to know that he truly enjoyed her. the de medici’s had been his mother’s pick, her encouragement alone was the only reason he’d allowed the interest to begin in the first place. she wanted a bank at her heel, she wanted a bank in her son’s pocket when he inherited her wars, she wanted a bank to extend the armada. giovanna would be useful in that regard, florence’s money would find it’s way into the english pocket slowly but surely. wealth as always, was attractive. it did not hurt to know that she was just as easy to behold. but james needed more than financial support, more than a simply beautiful bride. spain held power, more so than ever with their explorations to the new world. in his lifetime, it was expected their growth and influence would only extend. a trastámara wife, secured him a piece of that. when anne’s troubles truly became his own, when people realised england had a monarch disinterested in the ongoing wars on its throne, they would know that there was an exploitable weakness. an alliance with alonso protected that artery, far better than any de medici could. no matter her reverence, there was only so much of his jugular that her wingspan could cover. which was all the more disheartening each time he acknowledged to himself that he liked her more than he thought he might.

her words take him off guard, enough that he stammers for the first time in her presence. his meeting with alonso hadn’t been a secret, nor had it been shouted from the rooftops. the knowledge extended through servents and the court alike as a slow-moving snake might. finally, it had wriggled close enough to sink it’s fangs into giovanna’s calf.

 ❛  it is more true than it is not,  ❜  he admits.

 ❛  i have been in talks with his majesty alonso, in regards to his eldest sister infanta mariana and a possible betrothal,  ❜  he wants to lie, but she’d so easily catch him. what was the point ? he scans her features for anger or offence. if he wounds her pride, he expects the de medici’s to be longer open to negotiation should his marriage to spain fall through, but there was no double batting to be made when he’d been caught out.  ❛  you have my word, no formal arrangement has been made. so in a sense, i have not chosen anyone, but it is true that there is potential.  ❜

[jamestudor]

gaelicstatues‌:

a lifetime of emotional torture and physical withdrawal and strained patrick stuart within an inch of very life. when he had been called to meet the queen by the coast to start their travel onwards to switzerland after their sons, he had been stressed at his best. it was not that he did not care to go with her, or that the journey itself would be hard, the terror came down to the thought of entering the castle gates — to reunite with his children — and to be only met with scorns and downturned grimaces. 

as they travelled news caught them by the means of courier, telling the royal highnesses of the events gone by within the neutral zone. an explosion puppeteered by a man who was of the king’s own kin! an explosion that pathed terror and heartache within the many countries who had accepted such a peaceful invitation. then it dropped from the poor stranger’s tongue, that their princes had been harmed ( one worse than the other, it was always the way ). of course, patrick and the royal caravan made their way with haste, dust blooming behind them till they reached the zone with little entrance and less celebration. 

he would not admit it but he had been caught almost in tears by a manservant who prepped him for the meeting with his son. he had hoped that such a voyage from england to switzerland would bring relief and a break from the days of olde - but so far, it had only brought punishment and to think that james tudor ( his son who many whispered of faux parentage behind closed doors ) may be his undoing was just enough to tip him over the metaphorical edge. breaching his chambers, patrick felt the weight lift from his shoulders. no mater what past latched to bones,  james was standing upright with good posture, a well-cleaned garment and good health. was that not the only thing a father should care for? though his thoughts quickly fled to arthur and margaret, he approached and gave a sharp, precise nod with his hand lifting to grasp his son’s shoulder. “james, you look well…” 

he gave little care for the marriage plans orchestrated by his wife, and gave less for the audience behind them. instead, the prince consort soaked james in with as much sincerity as he could. he inspected the colour of his eyes, the smoothness of his skin and the shine of his hair. he would do the same to arthur later, but such inspection would be followed with a warmth patrick could not sustain with james. dropping his grip, prince took one step backwards and exhaled with the might of his high chest. “it was, till we were told of the news,” his accent thick, only thickened by the other accents around him - as if to taunt him yet again for being the one and only outsider. “we feared the worst, your mother and i. but the best thing to do post-excursion is to jump back onto th’ horse. speaking off, where’s arthur?” 

it’s childish. the bitterness that crawls up from his belly the moment arthur is mentioned, he knows it’s a child’s anger. even their mother would’ve asked after his brother, he knows that. but it doesn’t soften the knee-jerk spite that stokes his quiet temper. it had been so quick, a shoulder grasp and a half-formed sentence before it was onto the next. as arthur lay by the gate, unable to stand, james had gripped his shoulder much the same, given him a firm ragdoll shake–– perhaps the only thing he’d inherited from his father. not his eyes, not his face, not his hair or words or stance or... only a small mannerism that had ultimately only surfaced to comfort his brother when he didn’t know if it was the last thing that he’d get an opportunity to do. it itches at him uncomfortably to know that it was patrick that came to him in that moment. anne would have provided arthur as much comfort as a brown bear, but at least it would’ve been sincere. james had always been anne’s boy.

❛  so i have heard. frankly, i would not expect arthur in the saddle anytime soon. not with his shoulder,  ❜  to untrained ears he might sound indifferent, perhaps bordering on sympathetic. but it was a quiet declaration; i’m here. i’m standing. i’m back on the bloody horse. sure to impress all but him, james knew. i’m not his keeper, he wants to snark. bitter he may be, but he was no fool. his courtesies had rarely been outweighed by irrationalities.  ❛  i have not seen him since this morning; i’m afraid i am of little help in that regard.  ❜

❛  no doubt he’ll be dampened that i got to you first,  ❜  he doesn’t want to find joy in it, not when they’d pieced the tiniest of fragments back in place under siege. but it does make the corners of his lips lift, to know at the least his father must be disappointed.  ❛  probably avoiding mother, she prohibited him from the joust and melee before he’d left, and he’d competed regardless. i would be in hiding too.  ❜  

[jamestudor]

giovannamedici‌:

player : prince james tudor of wales and england @jamestudor​ location : castelgrand common rooms. 

she had always tried to stray from useless gossip, but nothing could stop her wandering ears when she heard the mention of james tudor. to think of him on the end of wiggling tongues soured her entire being; had they nothing better to do? but then one thing leads to another and giovanna heard of such rumour it almost made her retch. her skin was caught alight, her toes curled — had she already lost out on a game of marriage and romance? already at the age of twenty and eight giovanna felt out of place, out of favour. with her italian maid aiding her steps, giovanna excused her and manoeuvred her way throughout the castle to find the prince who had been so whispered over. he was like a portrait, his skin sculpted with oil and palette knives as the old masters did their pieces upon holy walls. so handsome, she almost forgets the uncertainty and power of unrequited affection that riddles her soul, her fingers twisting her rosary beads before clearing her throat, dropping into a curtsey for the prince turned friend turned… “your grace, how are your injuries?” she asked, her fingers rolling a bead slowly against her neck, her eyes low as not to meet his eye. “…may i sit by your side, james?” dropping her formalities as giovanna often did, she used his name and shifted closer, her green eyes all too reflective of her mood and thoughts. 

‘ see to it that my belongings are moved before the morning, if the party arrives early, i want to see to it that my mother is comfortable, ’  james pats the man upon the arm sincerely, since the attack, a little gentler with the servants than he’d ever been. they had been just as frightened and were presently just as eager to return home, but had been quick to fall back into duty. collin looked the prince over, fondly, a stark difference between those of his own court and the scots. the man’s eyes leave james’ and peer over his shoulder before turning away respectfully, causing the prince to glance back too. of course it had been giovanna that made him feel impure at a glance, james could relate, he supposed. turning to face her, he dismissed collin wordlessly.

❛  tender but my head has long since recovered from the joust, and i am more than thankful to simply have clarity. nevermind my injuries, my lady, you were in a state when our paths crossed. how have you been faring ?  ❜  his wrist was sore, but movable. his ribs tender, but he could find sleep with relative ease. the rest was a blur, but he spoke truly. he’d been in high spirits from the moment his concussion had eased.  ❛  giovanna, we are not in a formal setting. you do not need to seek my permission for proximity, it is yours to claim.  ❜  his hand gestures to the cushioned bench to his left.

 ❛  i was not expecting to see you today,  ❜  he clears his throat, lest he sound too boyish in his optimism. 

[jamestudor]

JAMES –– WEEK SEVEN

post count this week ( 01/03 to  07/03 ) : n. of replies  ( 3 )

point gained: 3  points  per  in-character  replies

point allocation:  intelligence + 3

HEALTH TOTAL: 72/150

influence : 20

intelligence : 18

wealth : 11

luck : 4

physical : 19

[jamestudor]

@gaelicstatues​ // 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃

LOCATION: english dwelling, montabello

he waited in the hall, hands wringing tightly whenever the servants flittered out of sight. he would not let the world see him squirm. each time the door creaked, his composure sprang into place once more, his nervous frown lifting to a tight-lipped... well it was hardly a smile, was it ? it was expected of him to meet with patrick. his first-born boy, it was only fitting to seek him out with a boldness that might suggest it was a relatively common phenomenon. it wasn’t. even the servants knew that. james was rarely in patrick’s company longer than honour required of him, and that had been very much the case for many years. now was no exception, this was expectations, not a labour of love. his stomach turned nervously, he felt as though he could be ill if he did not gather a hold on himself.

would he dress him down as his mother had ? would he be relieved to see him ? he doubted it. he doubted patrick had ever been relieved to see him. dark-haired like his mother, her strong bones and deep eyes were entirely inherited of the tudor queen. you could squint and stare for hours and never find a trace of patrick in his face. he was all anne, as arthur was all patrick. perhaps he would not be relieved as such, but grateful maybe ? without james, he likely would have lost his prize boy, if nothing else, did that not earn him a moment of pride ? if he did not feel in any way moved that his eldest had made it out largely in one piece, he hoped that his joy to see arthur might have spillage.

the door creaks open and he stands straighter than he thought possible, hands firmly behind his back as he bows, well mannered as always. straightening, he knows he must speak but the words sit uncomfortably on his tongue. with anne, there was no hesitation, not even when he knew she was furious. on patrick’s best day, james was still uncertain. father. for a moment, he almost says it. just to see how it might feel. before his nerve can steel, james faulters to his courtesies.  ❛  your royal highness,  ❜  he greets with passive respect.  ❛  please excuse the lateness of my welcome, i have been in talks with spain and hadn’t a moment to pull away to join you.  ❜  a lie. james had not met with alonso since the fair had begun, but it was an easier story to swallow than the crown prince had been pacing his room like a nervous pup since his parent’s arrival. even after receiving anne at the gate, he had not overstayed his welcome, quick to dismiss himself to other responsibilities; most of which were not only excuses but false ones at that.  ❛  i trust the journey was kind to you,  ❜