penitence suspended

margot douglas, daughter of margaret and cousin of henry ix. a trill of great disrepute.

[margotdcuglas]

blessedcharlesv:

“Bear my confession that I have little patience withstanding in my usual temperament towards naivety. Even in my youth I felt the burden of a soul condemned to have endured a plethora of lifetimes. A crown is his divine right, but he still sustains the existence of a young man. Your cousin is a blessed man to have your affections so pronounced in his corner - I trust he has acted greatly to incur such favor. Family has never been a bond strong enough to compel one to such words. I will endow him with my most understanding of mindsets.” What unearthly quality possessed this woman, in order to elicit such a reaction from his very heart that he lay helpless as a lamb to its whims. It was the lovechild of curiosity and allure; he should have become immune to such a potent mixture long ago. And yet he gazed at her with such a fixation that his eyes watered just so, from lack of blinking. 

Perhaps Henry aimed to prove his prowess at the throne with the display of a mere relative; albeit it a notable one. Charles could allow himself to enjoy this dalliance of the mind to a certain extent. It could go no further then casual conversation - greater men had lost their legacies at the behest of a woman possessing great intellect. He held his hands behind his back, adopting the stance of a man lost in great thought. With his dark eyes still trained upon her face, he paced the room freely, circling her person like a feline. Whether she lay before him as an ally or prey lay entirely in the hands of the fickle course of a conversation. “You are a woman with a face that seems to bear no determined age - I think you to be young and pious, but you speak of the arts of debauchery as if you were their mistress. Should it be improper for me to think of you as such?” 

"Oh, but great men define the borders of propriety, do they not? Emperors guide the lines we move by. If your Majesty deigns it improper, the whole world should regard it thus. " Margot skimped over a bow, not lowering her corseted body in its fullness, but nestling against the sidewall like an anvil. His gaze made her scrupulously aware of so many organic elements, as if the social veil, instead of being heightened by his dazzling position, was cast off entirely. The draft slithering from the double doors that decked the main hall, where voices still thundered, cracked and bubbled out, the gust of outer wind that laned on her upper bones, which margined her neck as if in a cradle - all of these converged to make her more present than she'd been. This strange thing sacrificed the roles they embodied and stepped over their remains like carion. It slaughtered the courtesan and allowed something else to emerge.

" I am old for the anglican conventions, Your Imperial Majesty. I should long have been married off. And yet I am neither pious nor sybaritic, but somehow a pendulum that flitters between the two, suspended in savored indecision. "

[margotdcuglas]

catherinepcrr:

OPEN STARTER. LOVE CATPURR.

          –  Secrecy was as difficult to maintain as sobriety in the English court. Although the whole ordeal was kept firmly under wraps as it unfolded it was now well known that Edward Seymour had refused the recently widowed Lady Parr entrance into the Seymour family by dropping the hammer on Catherine’s engagement to Nicholas Seymour. Try as she might to keep up appearances in the wake of such a devastating, perhaps more so embarrassing than truly heartbreaking blow, Catherine found herself drifting to the periphery of social occasions and events and spoke up only when an incident caught her attention or amused her, her lips pursing in a familiar fashion. “ If you will humor me, I’ve a pressing query I have not yet been able to satisfy. It gnaws at me so. The young man who made a speech on behalf of the king’s dethronement this past weekend – when will his execution be ?  I hope it will not fall before our midday meal ; I find such events to hamper my appetite. ”

“ Appetite which had never been too ravenous, if I’m apt to recall. It will be before lauds, whereupon we may pray for his misguided soul. Though aren’t ours all precisely that? ” Margot countered with a sober, distanced mien, as though she was about to bestow something of the utmost gravity. The facts relayed otherwise. Executions unsettled them both, but, since Wolsely’s death and Parr’s own widowhood, the two women regaled finality with a gracefulness only slightly dented. The varnish of behavior, compiled with the adamantine backbone of intellect, was scratched just superficially by a cavern’s breath. Mortal miseries, however, were much harder to carry. And among those numbered the Seymour affair, which would not sit well with any self-sufficient soul such as Catherine’s. At the hooded shelter felled from her skirts, Margot’s hands sought the other’s and offered a comforting, flitting touch. It was not clement, life lived in the higher spheres. And no female spirit even borne itself lightly. Perhaps that was the reason they had to weld together, embedded and entwined. “ We can withstand it together, if you wish. ” Years spent in each other’s shadows, vying for man-made ideals and flimsy competitions until every rivalry exhausted itself and peeled off like a scab crust, leaving only affection and intimacy in its wake, assured the honesty of the invitation.

[margotdcuglas]

cassiancaomhanach:

“you act as if you would allow anyone to forget you, margot.” he said with a raised eyebrow. he would not stand on ceremony with a woman he was convinced he would wed. he hadn’t heard from or seen her since they parted ways, well before his brother’s death and his own marriage, but there was no denying who she was. she had the same trouble in her eyes, a fire rivaled only by her hair. she had a way of seeing right through you that made him feel uneasy. there was no denying the way his stomach lurched at the memories, even if he no longer loved her. not even an angel of god could pull his eyes away from his beloved wife, but once upon a time, he had loved margot so dearly that he held to her the same devotion. “i simply asked if i could help you with something. i imagine you would not seek me out if it were not important.”

“ conversely, my foreign king, I wouldn’t seek you if it were. ” she broke off and cradled her skirts together, trailing after the composure that had dispersed in the very air around them. to address a man of his position on such blatant terms was tomfoolery, an act no better than climbing tables at a ceremonial banquet. margot pressed her hands tight against the triangular bodice and became immobile. she was not above displaying her bitterness, nor the scratched surface of her pride, which marred this conversation like turreted crenelates. “ I heard from Ursula that you had found your way into our humble lands again, and wanted to present my ever-powerful gratitude at this happening ”, she recited, a tone so automatic and dense that satire could not be severed from dogmatic phrase.

[margotdcuglas]

thcmascromwell: 

     No, he wanted to say, let all mouths speak their word. If mouths must be molded and abated to their lord–one could at least use that to do something useful, something advancing. The lord, one might say, has told us to abolish starvation, abolish all the cruelty and horror and unrest from the world. And, knowing the times they lived in, and if they were believable, they might very well progress towards what seemed like such an unattainable goal. But, of course, no one would say that.

     But he digressed. Standing, he droned, “Your words, not mine, but I certainly won’t dispute,” And tried to look for a way out of the uncomfortable room, somewhere where he didn’t have to be surrounded by so many bodies of people, and be exposed to the salacious rising and falling of Margaret’s chest.

     But the exits, the entries, were clogged with clumps of people laughing and cavorting. Was it worth it, now, to shove through them in order to breath? He didn’t know, “Must you always be so haughty, my lady?”

    She watched him survey the hall like a caged animal, mapping escape nooks and crannies, jotting down possible ways to curtail this. It did not offend her. Margot brought her gaze back to her hands, as if nothing could elicit more interest, and willfully ignored how words hitched in her throat like muscles going soft. Mollified, that was a better term for it. She pared down both wit and defiance, trimmed them as girls were taught to trim their tusk-like nails. Did she do it out of complacence, or latent apprehension? Could it owe to what he had instilled in them all, a foreboding sentiment that this man would not stand for pedantry, though he himself embodied it? But if that were so, if she were merely seeking to cast out her weariness and plunge into scandal as though it were a Roman bath chamber, then why did she waver? Perhaps the threads that heckled together caution and incentive had knitted so profusely in time that they would never sever. Her teeth grazed her lower lip, lathering the rouge off them like the underbelly of a bird. “ Were our encounters often enough to merit an always, my lord? I’d be at pains to recall. ”

[margotdcuglas]

thcmascromwell: 

     “You have little say in what one shall or shall not think about, my lady Douglas,” It was less an insult, more of a statement of fact, as Cromwell’s voice was ever humble and monotone. That said, it eluded to more, and may have given off that pompous effect after all… he wasn’t adverse to the flexibility his steadfast tone held on counterparts in conversation, in debates at court.

     Even so, Margaret’s presence was abrasive, tainted with something, and Cromwell found himself tempted to drink out of the brim-filled goblet before him. But he didn’t. 

     “The past often repeats itself in unexpected ways. Best we know, rather than not. You’d do well to ponder this.”

          “ Is that so? And here I was, silly chit, thinking that you pleaded for the liberty and unanimity of speech. Let all mouths speak God’s word, no? ” Margot bared her neck as she leaned rearwards, questioning posture exposing more than she would warrant. She knew this might thread a precarious path, but what she did not know was what exactly Cromwell dabbled in, and how much she could imply about it. The limits were strained thin, she had an inkling - though when did that ever evolve into full-fledged caution? The lady swirled her tongue over her fear and effluent suspicion about this man. Fear had never prowled on its own, which meant there was something else in its wake, another intermingled desire or abatement.

[margotdcuglas]

maryofengland:

“ i apologize grealy, i have not been home in years and yet dear aunt margot, i seem to miss a great portion of how to find my family amongst the many faces when i should know them so well. ——- “ the woman spoke, posture as always straight as she smiled at her. a familiar face in the midst of so many that came to mourn and celebrate at the same time. “ i dare say you fare well? —- “

@margotdcuglas | starter

melancholy fused into liveliness and reverie at the sight of her eldest cousin, a melange between so many sentiments and pent up, long dismissed confessions that her face could hardly carry it. margot twirled nimble fingers on her skirt’s tresses, and bowed skittishly before the other woman. she was so poised, so remote from them in her marbled elegance, that she didn’t know if she would double over with laughter or flush red with all she had not attempted to be. she was her mother’s daughter, after all, and what had margaret been if not a lowland harlot ? margot simply wished to perfect the trope. assuredly, she took pride in herself to an extent that most noblewomen would never taste in her lifetime, but even so, Mary’s painted-glass features would always chasten her. a statement to what queenhood should look like, which she herself could never be, naturally, but which all girls dotted over, just as naturally. “ oh, Your Majesty, but I am always well. Can I once more address you as Mary? I loved your father so. ”

And her affected manner, demure while apathetic at the same time, like a cat sprawled on flowerbeds, now carried no pretense. She meant every word of it. Henric had been not only a father-figure, but also a terrifying and titillating thing, a wondrous phenomena of a man too. She had felt blessed not only to have met him, but to have been cared for by such a personage. “ how does your strength sustains you so undeterred? ”

[margotdcuglas]

cassiancaomhanach:

“can i help you with something?” he asked as he unwrapped the bandages from his hand. he had just finished sparring with some of the guards, always wanting to keep in good shape, when the well-dressed person approached him. from his plain clothes, one might not know he was a king, but that didn’t explain why they thought it necessary to disturb him.

a prolonged glance drafted over her shoulder, lashes thrown backwards like a cape, a veil over the eagerness in her eyes. something in margot plummeted crookedly, and she found her excitement dwindled, dragged down by the stone that traversed her chest. she rolled her shoulders to give the illusion of motion and the certitude of stability. “ beg your pardon, Your Highness. I see that the climb to power often involves an adverse effect on the sovereign’s memory. I trust it shall be brought back to you swiftly, with God’s help. ”

[margotdcuglas]

ursulcs:

               Lips pressed together in a straight line, unamused by the lengthiness of the day. Boredom had long taken over her mood, and she was forced to accept that while Henry had hosted a marvelous and riveting court, his funeral left much to be desired. She imagined that he would have been disappointed by the affair, for she certainly was. Her relationship to the crown meant that Ursula was comfortable enough to not always hold her tongue. Among thee stuffy upper class, it caused many frownds.  The alcove which she entered was well lit and rather private, giving an essence of solitude to a popular occasion. ❛   If that is what it takes for you to feel flattery then we need to raise your standards.  ❜

          “ Oh, we already knew that a long time coming ”, she mused with coquette nonchalance, but her eyes garnered a new light at the simple presence of her friend. Ursula had been, if not a paragon, then at least the shoreline that Margot’s growth was guided by. And how their ideals had differed almost since the first instance they could verbalize them! As soon as wishes drifted outward from hearts and were molded by their tongue, by their understanding of what life should rise to be, they were two opposite creatures. Margot not only adored, but revered her friend for it. The integrity to withhold your course even while being prodded and bent by so many distinct sources, hers counted among them. It was as if only weeks ago she tried to coax Ursula into visiting a Lord’s gaming chamber, the sort in which fortunes convulsed, spluttered out, then perished, simply because she was wooing the idea of him. The glorified idea of what such a liaison would mean for her name. And Ursula shaking her head indulgently, ever so daintily, and mincing her steps out from the bed they shared. A staunch refusal, but in the delicate manner she was known to employ at all times. “ Do you remember the swashbuckler, Sully? The one I sneaked out to meet on a dinghy raft that paddled us across Tames? I thought you would murder me, on my word. ” Margot warded off the memory with a clink of a laughter, as if glasses were chipped together. “ How are your wonderful children, my sweet? ”

[xxmoved-blog]

Memory Meme

[georgebcleyn-blog]

xxmoved-blog:

Past experiences help shape who we are currently, how we see the world. Send in a symbol and I’ll write a drabble of one of my muse’s memories. 

–

❥ - a childhood memory

♣ - a fading memory

✂ - a vivid memory

✖ - a repressed memory

✈ - an eye-opening memory

✤ - a memory that involves romance/love

☤ - a memory of death/loss

✍ - a memory of their mother

☽ - a memory of their father

♘ - a memory of their sibling(s)

✌ - a memory of a relative

↕ - a memory that may or may not have happened

✓ - a sexual memory

♬ - a friend/best friend memory

[margotdcuglas]

how do you feel about court?

EDEN IN MOTION, isn’t it? My entire life was spent in its pools of light. Even when I scurried through Wolsely’s feet, clad in red like a he-devil and twice as knavish as one, it was still a court in its own right. And, besides, he was always over at Whitehall or Hampton in those times. The rogue gem on my uncle’s unblemished hand. But then the brown spots appear, do they ever spare us? And a new court emerged after their sprouting. It’s unseasoned, this one, a cocoon in its vernal stages. As much as I had thought I loved beginnings, I now think it was only the whiff of them that drew me. I prefer the golden rust from those that fully crossed their glory. 

[the-write-ideas]

Ask my character "How do you feel about ______?" Can be an idea, person(s), place, or thing, and they'll have to answer honestly.

Ⓦ

[margotdcuglas]

blessedcharlesv:

The gall of the Lady was enough to inspire a tepid smile of Charles’ weathered features. He would always ravish the praise of his inferiors, blind to the raw power that lay in the hands of those who could flatter him in a manner that was neither visibly forced, nor lacking in passion. Paired with a fervent intelligence, Charles was intrigued by the young woman doubled over before him, submitting both her allegiance and physical form to his crown. He knew her well; or at least, of her existence. The status of the dowager Queen’s daughter had been as far from his mind as the stars in the heavens - but he found himself examining her dress,   “My Lady. I should hardly be able to recall a dignitary in my minds eye, whose greeting could have awarded me such pleasure. Nor would they be able to muster such eloquent speech as you display, the words so natural I should have thought them simple.” Beckoning with a hand, adorned with the jewels of his fathers, he invited her to rise. “Scotland has found a worthy emissary in you. It will do me great happiness to, perhaps, be escorted by your through the festivities.” If there was one thing the emperor now desired of his political ventures in England, it would be to have the thoughts of Lady Berwick at his disposal.

Margot craned her neck, something both stalk and swan-like in the stretch. The woman’s eyes, which already crowned her features to the point of rendering them obsolete, widened in slight pleasure. She was happy with her ensnarement; gratified, to say the least, though understanding its brevity. One could not hold the mind of kings for too long - as for emperors, she hadn’t even addressed someone who tried. Perhaps the miter which hung above royalty ( the veritable sort, not the kind that tiptoed into her power like mother had been primed to ) did not allow many interruptions. She almost deplored the mistresses who had to ingratiate themselves back in his thoughts, as if forgetfulness lied awaiting, a curse which stunned any glory in the deed. Their love and life destined to be an intermezzo. But how dazzling would it truly be, to stand beside an emperor and have him hear your piece? She rose in conformity to his gesture.

“ I can only hope they will cater to your taste, Majesty. And should that not be the case, please consider before being too harsh on my cousin. He is still young and unversed in the arts of debauchery... for the lack of a better word. ” She simpered through newly bloomed amusement, lips seizing the word in its fullness. It was impossible for a man like him to not take notice and scant the core rule of power: opulence, if done right, can sustain almost everything else. 

[margotdcuglas]

cfnorfolk:

*  SHAKESPEARE  AESTHETICS.

Macbeth:

the howl of wolves. moonless nights. dirt under fingernails. stained silk. chattering teeth. voices hoarse and cracked. rotting fruit. echoing drums. dry heaving. hanging cobwebs. stifling humidity. bloodshot eyes. the roughness of rusted steel. wild rosebushes. muscle cramps. the sound of splintering wood.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream:

crackling fires. ivy crawling on stone. the faint music of running water. petrichor. dirty, bare feet. tattered clothing. thistledown. wilted wildflower crowns. late evening birdsong. curling leaves. a symphony of croaking frogs. drifting feathers. the eerie sound of windchimes at night.  humming bees. beds of clover.

Romeo and Juliet:

warm golden lamplight. worn shoes. crumbling brick walls. whispered poetry. embroidered satin. cool, hazy mornings. tousled hair. rosewater. flushed cheeks. distant orchestras. unfinished marble statues. cobblestone streets. loose threads. ink smudged on parchment. tapping fingers. dust illuminated by sunlight. poison vials.

Hamlet:

shattered glass. a cluster of fraying ribbons. unanswered knocks on doors. lingering dampness. white noise. inexplicable drafts. migraines. bleeding ears. the taste of metal. reflected mirrors. dry, cracked lips. the sound of tearing paper. fogged windows. memories of dreams. tarnished silver. protruding veins.

[viktor-vasnetsov]

Three princess of the Underground Kingdom, 1884, Viktor Vasnetsov

[darknesshadows-deactivated20180]

Pageants and dances, so many dances…

[margotdcuglas]

“ Most Imperial Majesty ”, Margot’s body curved like a salient banner, her arm sweeping an encompassing arc above the floor. “ Though I am not a dignitary, I insisted on being the one to honor your guess rights before the masses could extol it. On behalf of Scotland, if nothing else. ” As if she were a wren upon a castle’s gable, sheltered by the nook in such a towering structure, Margot too was aware there were heights not even she could stake claim to. Personages besides which the very air that spun them was blistering and blinding. But that did not dissuage her from trying, wings inching closer with every demure smile, every sway in her unraveled skirts.

@blessedcharlesv

[margotdcuglas]

lionswon:

                                         THE  SOLDIER  STANDS  TO  ATTENTION,  spine  tight  with  his  feet  bolted  to  the  floor  as  his  eyes  roved  across  the  banquet,  fixing  on  the  dancers  and  revelers  of  this  evening’s  celebrations.   the  palace  echoed  with  the  delight  of  it’s  bacchanal  assemblage,  the chime  of  chalices  and  chatter  of  the  merry,   and  james  was  almost  envious   ;   stood  only  envisaging  himself  among  the  crowd.

                                           movement  snagged  in  his  peripheral  vision,  head  twisting  to  its  source,   compelled  by  the  duty  to  prevent  access  beyond  these  parts  of  the  palace.   ❝  i  would  see  you  return  to  the  festivies,   your  grace.   his  majesty  has  appprised  me  with  the  utmost  earnest  that  his  guests  should  not  go  astray. ❞

                     margot jolted into her take on the intrusive voice, which tore through the resounding vestiges of a party already spent. chatter and taffeta rustle followed them into the hallway, but this man’s interception subjugated all noises, swatting them down like flies that could not deter him. she swerved in his direction, both eyes reduced to jade-slits, some imperious light glinting through. “ oh, my cousin His Majesty is merely strutting his unweaned power. ” she paused as soon as the last word coursed between them, snake scales that had tumbled from her lips, but lacking both cause and stake in their jeopardy. she would best avoid speaking so unabashedly, in front of a swornsword nonetheless! “ as he should ”, the lady retracted, preening herself as she tittered before the guard. “ power is best in its incipient stages. May God illuminate the whole way. is my utmost care and obedience to your fancy? ”