“And you’d leave poor me behind? I’m not mad, just sorely disappointed,” she joked with a laugh as she looked back to the crowd for a moment and then to the person next to her. She had to admit, that for the first time since coming here she was having one of her first enjoyable conversations
...
Sebastian paused for a moment, bringing his fingers to rub on his chin (or rather, the bottom of the mask he had been donning for the night) as if he was deep in thought. “I guess I could try and convince the other person to let you drag along. She will probably grumble a little but she can’t say no to saving another poor soul.”
“Maybe we should come up with a plan and escape,” she joked with a small laugh, taking a sip of her drink. Truly she was tired of hearing over privileged people brag about what they’ve done to help their towns when it was actually their help that did all of the work. “Care to humor me?”
...
“That wouldn’t be such a terrible idea,” he told the other with a soft laugh, although he would do anything to return to England. “Although if I do plan to escape, I would have to drag at least one other person with me. I would never hear the end of it if I leave her behind in this French castle.” He knew it was his duty to the crown keeping him here, but he was simply desperate to leave.
for: closed ( @ofeuphemisms) sofia leon
location: sofia’s quarters
Since arriving at the summit, Sebastian’s had experienced a vast and near complete gamut of emotions. Naturally, his reputation had preceded him, as it did wherever he went. And, there had certainly been no shortage of those he continued to perpetuate and uphold the very same with. However, things within the Spaniard’s world had shifted, though slightly at first, upon meeting the Ming Prince, Chenyu. What had begun as simply another fling had shifted quickly into something more. And, while at present no quantifiers pertaining to the situation had been discussed, there was simply no denying precisely what Sebastian felt. Feelings in and of themselves were something the Prince had often experienced, though such had never been reciprocated. And, despite his fears, his insecurities, and his hold-backs, he simply could not deny the inkling within his own mind that perhaps, this could be different for Chenyu, too. Still, trusting himself was not something which came easily to Sebastian, and as such, the counsel of his eldest sister was something he sought immediately. Approaching Sofia’s quarters, the Prince raised his fist, wrapping lightly upon the wood. “Hola hermosa. Espero no haber venido en un mal momento.” He called, awaiting her reply.
...
There were many things to do, and yet so little time to carry everything out. It was particularly more challenging when she had to rely on her brother for some things to happen, having to remind herself over and over again that he was the figurehead, that he was the face of the Spanish royal family, the face of the Leons. She was just the one who did all the work. Which was what she was doing right now, resting on her bed and reading correspondence instead of getting some much-required sleep. The knock on the door was not one she was expecting, but the familiar voice did bring a smile to her lips. “Sebastian! Adelante,” Sofia called out, putting the letters down on the bed as she looked up at the door to her chambers. “Forgive me for not being very presentable. I was trying to make myself comfortable.”
Olivier was hesitant to share their wine - they’d been nursing this glass for what felt like ages, for if they knew if they got another, it would certainly be one too many. They didn’t want to embarrass their family by getting too drunk at an event, no matter how wonderful that sounded, they had a name to uphold, a kingdom to represent. Maybe after all of this, she would sneak out into the city like she used to and share drinks with the commoners - if he could even manage sneaking out with the guard presence that seemed to be around them at all times now. But… they still had to play the good host. So they hesitantly offered their goblet over to her, their free hand coming to rest at the nape of their spine behind their back. “It is the best in the kingdom…”
...
The other offering their drink was definitely not what Sofia was expecting, but alas, it was an appreciated offer. She figured the other was just trying to be friendly, that they were simply being nice about it considering the wishes she expressed. Yet she was not raised to drink after others or take someone’s drink. Her mother would toss in her grave if she saw Sofia doing something like that. “That’s very nice of you. I will wait until the servers come around. It would be terrible of me to deprive you from the best wine in the kingdom that you’ve been enjoying.”
”Such awe is something I feel, also,” Ursula quipped, her tone dry but clearly humoured. Where she might otherwise take her chance to turn heel and scurry away, the smile audible in this man’s voice put her more at ease. Perhaps he would be amenable to further conversation, if she played her cards right.
“It appears I have chosen the, sit and look pretty or swoon after a single dance slippers tonight,” she sighed, “in fact, I don’t suppose I could trouble you to accompany me to the nearest chaise, could I?”
...
“Do you consider yourself not able to walk in those shoes?” He questioned. Maybe she was not a noble woman after all. Weren’t they all capable of walking in their shoes? At least that was the impression he had gotten from his years at court. All women seemed to carry themselves well throughout entire balls in the most uncomfortable of shoes. “If I were a woman, I believe I would gladly take that approach,” Sebastian quipped with a light chuckle before pointing towards an empty chaise at the end of the hall. “Of course. After you, m’lady.”
She still stood beside the wall, having found that the wall was better company then the people who could only talk about themselves and their accomplishments. And what were those accomplishments? Petty things that did nothing to help their people. “Maybe I could just sneak out and leave,” she muttered to herself as she looked up to see someone there. “Oh,” she jumped, “hello”
...
Sebastian truly wished he could just sneak out, leave France and return back home with Eleanor by his side. It was the only way he could ensure her safety, for this French palace was nowhere near safe for the woman he loved. Yet they were both stuck here, having to pretend that all was fine. At least his sentiment seemed to be shared, even by strangers. “Hello to you too,” he pointed out with a smile, lifting his glass of wine in the air in cheers. “Fret not, I wish I could sneak out and leave too.”
Santiago felt out of place. His clothing was picked out by Sofia and it was even grander than anything his father ever had. He’d tried to protest her offer, he shouldn’t be wearing anything like this, it was more fit to a prince than a bastard knight. But the look on her face when she presented it to him was something he couldn’t say no to. So here he stood in the middle of this ballroom with people passing him with a nod of their heads, everyone assuming he was someone important. Maybe this would have been his life if his mother hadn’t been… whatever she was.
He almost jumped when he heard Sofia’s voice, he’d taken his eyes off of her for only a moment and she was able to sneak up on him. If it had been anyone else, he would have chastised himself for being so caught off guard. “I’m not a good dancer.” He muttered, his eyes flickering around them, afraid somehow someone would know him. No one paid them any mind, she pointed out as much. “And if someone does recognize us?” Her brothers, for example, there was always a chance they’d know him. Despite his protests, he followed her. Santiago wanted nothing more than to have a moment with her, just one to pretend he could be the prince she was destined to marry. “I’ll do my best to not make a fool of myself.” He squeezed her hand, “For your sake.”
.
Sofia could tell that Santiago was far from comfortable. This was not a setting he was used to after all. She wanted him to have a night where no one would care who he was. She made sure he had the best clothes made for the occasion, and that it did not even remotely resemble his regular knight armor and clothing. Tonight, she just wanted to be with Santiago. Santiago the man, obscured by a mask, and not her knight or the bastard that others always saw.
“I know, but I’ll excuse you for stepping on my feet,” she assured him with a light laugh, her hand reaching out to squeeze his arm gently. “No one will. They may know who I am but they won’t know who you are.” It was the reason why she made sure he had the finest clothing. It was easier to hide his identity that way. Intertwining her fingers through his, Sofia offered Santiago the softest of smiles - one that was only reserved for the ones that mattered most to her. “I assure you, everyone will be jealous of our dancing by the end of this,” she pointed out just as the music started. It came naturally to her, the way her feet would move to the notes of the music in a typical dance that she had been doing for years. And she dragged Santiago along with her, making sure his body mirrored her own in movements.
If Sofia wished to be optimistic, to find the one good thing in this entire masquerade ball, it was precisely this. The opportunity to know exactly which man Santiago was, without anyone else being aware. Of course he was more than aware of what his princess looked like. Not knowing would be a breach of security and that was the last thing they wanted. To everyone else around them, that man could be anyone. And whilst her gown made it quite clear that she was a powerful royal, she had made sure his attire would match hers in its regality. That way, no one would know who they were, and for one night, they would be free.
“I believe you owe me a dance,” she told him with a hidden smirk, eyes glancing through the mask to look into his own. Her hand moved out towards his, and it felt so liberating to not have to hide her longing to reach out to him tonight. No one would care about yet another two people on the ballroom floor, but she did care. “I won’t let you get out of this one. Come on, no one knows who we are,” she reassured him before dragging him out towards where people were gathering for the next dance. “Just follow my steps and you’ll be alright.”
Olivier wished they could escape outside, into the gardens, where the cold air would certainly be a shock upon their skin, and where they would certainly get a lecture about caring for themself and their health especially after everything they’d been through but a lecture was more bearable than this. To the new year, they thought, taking another sip from his goblet, may the rest of it be better than this. A voice pulled him from his thoughts, his eyes landing on another. “No, I… brought it over here,” they replied, raising the glass as they looked over at her, their voice soft. “It is just… a lot, in there. And I wanted some space from… all of it.”
...
Sofia could understand the sentiment. She had always enjoyed social gatherings, the eloquence of balls, the opportunity to converse with others. But the talks had dragged on, the constant presence of so many people was overwhelming, and she had been on edge the entire night. It was exhausting, always looking out for potential trouble when everyone’s identity was a mystery. “I guess I will have to go for longer without my wine then,” she pointed out with a small shrug, lifting an imaginary cup in the air. “We all so sometimes. I certainly will not judge you for that.”
The reminder of the closeness of danger, the threat that lingered over the heads of every Royal at the Chateau, dampened the excitement in Chenyu’s breast to a dim glimmer.
”Ah,” he said, remembering with discomfort the black envelope, the panic of the fire, the death of a king. The most recent of the attacks was still fresh in his mind, not for the ferocity of the blaze nor the chaos it created, but for the harried whispers it left behind. A familiar name being hissed with suspicion. If the Phantoms wished to tear the Summit talks apart, they were doing a fair job of it.
Chenyu had made it clear to Prince Sebastián that he knew he was not involved in the fire. The gratefulness with which his trust was received still made his stomach twist in ways he didn’t yet fully understand.
”When you put it that way, it’s not as fun,” Chenyu admitted, suddenly looking out of his mask at the others around the room with a sense of suspicion. There was an instinctual desire to seek out his family, his sisters, Wen Fei, but of course it would be hard to identify them and guarantee their safety on a night such as this.
...
In another time, she would have welcomed a masquerade ball with excitement akin to that of a young child. She would have been eager to spend the night obscured, to be mysterious, to dance with whoever she wanted to without being judged. She knew this was the only night she could display a semblance of affection towards the man who had stolen her heart. But not in the current situation where it spelt danger to be so mysterious. “I did not wish to dampen your excitement, but it is the truth. Maybe they did not think this through, but I can’t help but think of the worst.”
”No harm done, I assure you,” Ursula insisted, thankful that the person she had fallen into did not seem to take offence at her misstep. Had she been unmasked, or recognised, experience and belief told her that the majority of attendees would not be so forgiving. But in a room where kings and stable boys disguised themselves and stood side by side, no one could risk insulting another. There were meant to be political talks going on, after all.
”It was these damned shoes,” she said in way of explanation, trying not to gnash her teeth. They were slightly too large for her, and seemed to have a habit of turning. The wooden soles had almost been worn away, and Ursula was sure that a nail had been lost at some point. “I haven’t hurt you, have I?” She looked through the mesh-covered eye holes in her mask at the man she had collided with, and then to his conversational partner. They both looked robust enough to withstand a knock from a slight woman such as herself, but she did not wish to presume.
...
Sebastian nodded slowly in acknowledgement, a part of him glad that he did not injure the other. The last thing he wanted was for someone to get upset with alcohol in their heads. With masks hiding everyone’s identity, the freedom to do as one pleased was there and that did include arguments if it came to that. “I am glad,” he told the woman with a smile, even if his features were obscured by the mask. “I always remain in awe as to how women manage to walk in such shoes. It is a true skill,” he spoke with a light chuckle before nodding his head once again. “I am well and unharmed. Worry not about me, ma’am.”
Usually, Olivier would adore balls like this. A time to be anonymous, among a crowd of strangers, looking their prettiest, eager to have alcohol on their lips and someone’s touch on their skin. But now, there’s an uneasy sense of dread in their gut. Who knows who all of these people are? Certainly not Olivier. Anyone could be anyone - there could be murderers among them, and no one would ever know. Olivier regretted their lack of weapons, but they weren’t exactly skilled in any art of fighting. So, instead of dipping into the crowded hall, they remained along the wall, nursing a glass of wine, trying to pretend like the dread wasn’t about to overwhelm them.
.
Despite the fancy ballgown she was donning, and the eloquent mask that obscured her features, Sofia did not fail to keep her dagger close, tightly held against her leg. She felt far from comfortable not knowing who the people around her were, and she needed a means to protect herself should the need arise. With the dangers present in France at the moment, a masquerade ball was a dangerous idea, and she had to take care of herself after all. She stepped outside the hall for a moment, taking in the opportunity to be able to sneak out without anyone knowing it was her. She spotted a figure against the wall, and although she wanted to avoid the presence of others who were unknown, she desperately wanted a glass of wine for herself. “Excuse me. Have they been serving wine out here? I am guessing the masks have simply confused the servants serving wine in the ballroom.”
@1642hqs-starters || open || the main ballroom || no cap
Of all the parties Chenyu had attended since arriving in France, this was by far the most confusing. Entertaining, to be sure, but… confusing, also. There was something very familiar about gazing over the crowd and being unable to recognise a single face; it was, after all, the same experience Chenyu had had when he first arrived in France. But at that time the cause had been his own lack of experience, and not the decorative masks everyone wore, or held in front of their faces.
”So the point is not to know who anyone is?” he asked aloud, through the mask which had been tied over his face by serving staff. There was, despite the obvious confusion in his voice, a great amount of delight colouring his tone. He greatly doubted The Forbidden City would ever allow such a party, would ever permit possible mixing of servants and nobles, or risk the possibility for subterfuge. The novelty bubbled in Chenyu’s body, turning his mood quickly towards giddy excitement.
.
This ball was a poor choice in Sofia’s opinion. It the environment that surrounded them, considering all the things that had happened in France. The mystery was enticing in better times, but was it such a wise choice to have everyone’s face obscured by masks, their identities completely hidden from the world? The question came from her side, and Sofia tuned her head around. She could not tell who it was behind the mask, only that the accent was not a European one. “That is the point, yes. An interesting concept most of the time, but quite a risk to take considering the things we have had to face since we’ve all been here.”
@1642hqs-starters open || the masquerade ball || no cap
If Ursula ever had doubts that the Fantômes were wrong, and that Royals were still fit to rule their kingdoms, she would only have to consider this party and all her doubts would vanish. They had set their barn alight. They had blackmailed them. They had even killed a king, but still the Royals partied as if nothing had happened, as if their worlds weren’t one slip of ablade away from ending.
Not that Ursula was truly complaining, mind. Their foolishness and overconfidence only gave her yet another way to place herself in the centre of it all, to find information, to get close enough to the fragile, human bodies of the monarchs. Close enough to smell. Close enough to kill, if she wanted.
With a pair of borrowed slippers and a matching gown, and with her face all but fully masked, the only thing that could give Ursula away would be her voice. Even her rugged hands were disguised with finicky gloves, and her hair had been pomaded and wrestled with until it somewhat fit the European style. She blended seamlessly with the others around her, dripping in finery, tottering in wedge-shaped heels.
Tottering, perhaps, a bit too much.
”My apologies,” Ursula let out in a rush as her borrowed slipper-heel wobbled, and she swayed to her left into the personal space of a maybe-stranger.
.
Sebastian had been uneasy since the moment the masquerade ball was announced. How could the French possibly think that having guests masked beyond the point of recognition would be a good idea? The phantoms were already in the palace, that much was obvious. They had simply given them a free pass to mingle with everyone else unnoticed, and to wreck havoc. The only reason why he was here was because his duty called, and to make sure that no harm would befall the woman he loved.
He was busy conversing with a man whose accent was clearly French, a man who spoke of his lands in Provence, when he felt a body colliding against his own from the side, almost toppling him over had he been a smaller man. “Are you well? Are you harmed?” He asked, having no clue who the other person was. Their clothing didn’t look like that of a queen, but anyone could disguise themselves on a night like this.
( blanca suarez, cisfemale, she/her, 30 ) ** ♔ announcing SOFIA LEON, the CROWN PRINCESS OF SPAIN ! in a recent portrait they seem to resemble BLANCA SUAREZ. it is a miracle that SHE survived the last five years and for that reason, they are FOR the kingdoms working together. reflecting on them now, they remind me of THE SOUND OF HUSHED VOICES IN SECRET CONVERSATIONS; A GOBLET OF DARK RED WINE LONG FORGOTTEN; A LIONESS PROTECTING HER PRIDE. ( rebecca, she/her, 24, gmt+1 )
A sweltering Spanish summer day brought about the unexpected delivery of the first Spanish princess. Sofia was born small for her age, but whilst her parents feared for their first daughter’s survival, she immediately showed her fighting spirit. The newborn child thrived and survived against all odds, growing up into a bubbly child with a keen interest in everything that was happening in the world around her.
Being shaped into a perfect infanta was an easy task for those entrusted with her education. She always took her lessons seriously, and strived to learn all she could through her tutors and her books. She would frown upon anyone that dared interrupt any of her lessons, even if it was her own siblings doing so. Sofia never complained about her etiquette lessons - in her mind, they were only there to help shape herself up into a prim and proper princess. It was easy to understand why her father adored her. with an infanta like Sofia, Spain was destined to gain the most advantageous of unions.
Yet as sofia grew up she discovered a fire inside her that burned with a need for more. She yearned for the attention her older brother got as he was shaped to become a king. How she longed to have the ability to make decisions for Spain, to know that her beloved country would always be her home. Yet she was a girl, and her duty was to forge alliances for her family and her country. Even if she was eager to do her duty, she wanted to be the one who calls the shots. She wanted to have power to rule, but she loved her brother too much to try and snatch that away from him.
A marriage arrangement had been organized when she was barely a woman. A union between two grand countries, one that promised to be beneficial to both. Yet their plans to marry dissolved when the plague broke out, much to Sofia’s pleasure. Leaving Spain was an option she had grown to dislike. As the fires that engulfed Spain made Sofia stay in her beloved country for much longer than anticipated, she knew that she would never want to find a reason to leave.
Once her brother ascended the throne, she found the opportunity to be at the forefront, offering her brother advice and opinions in the interest of her country. Her brother, who maybe was not the person to rule Spain, but the one who held the throne by right. There is nothing she wouldn’t do for Spain or her country, no matter how shady and no matter the cost, and that was common knowledge to the king. Even if he was oblivious to her methods, like everyone else was. She would always maintain her poise and eloquence, whilst her connections made her commands a reality.
The fires have now been extinguished, the plague and famine overcome. But tragedy for their family struck again when her brother was left without a wife and with a baby girl. Maria-Teresa had been a wonderful woman, a true friend to Sofia, and her loss left its mark on her. Yet the Spanish king was left too numb and distraught to rule, so Sofia stepped up to the role she had dreamed of doing since she was nothing but a little girl. She is now the one ruling their country after the devastation it faced, in the name of her brother, even if she has to do so discreetly. She made a vow to herself that she would bring Spain back to its feet, stronger than before, now that the power is (unofficially) in her hands.
( rege-jean page, cismale, he/him, 32 ) ** ♔ announcing SEBASTIAN HOWARD , the ROYAL ADVISOR/DUKE from ENGLAND ! upon closer look, they resemble REGE-JEAN PAGE . it is a miracle that HE survived the last five years and for that reason, they are FOR the kingdoms working together. reflecting on them now, they remind me of WILD HORSES RUNNING ACROSS AN ENGLISH MOOR; WISDOM HIDDEN BEHIND A YOUTHFUL FACE; A LONGING FOR HOME. ( rebecca, she/her, 25, gmt+1 )
The castle of Framlingham had witnessed events that no one had expected. A union between the duke of Norfolk and the illegitimate daughter of the duke of Somerset, done discreetly to avoid the scrutiny of many, was soon followed by the birth of the eldest son – Sebastian William Edward Howard. There were many speculations around his birth. Some even went far as to insist that he was created out of wedlock. The one thing that was certain was the fact that he was born into a marriage that was rushed, and he was born only six months after they had wed, despite appearing to be a full-grown and healthy baby boy.
His father raised him with an iron fist, instilling into Sebastian the virtues of an English nobleman. He brought the best tutors in the countries to help in the young boy’s education, but there was more to life than books to him. He was born with an intelligent mind, one that could only belong to a strategist. His tongue was as sharp as his sword, and he spent as much time outside practicing his swordfighting skills as he did studying his military strategies and languages.
His father was a trusted man in the court of England, and by association so was Sebastian. Growing up he travelled often to court with him, learning about the dealings at the heart of politics. It was something that enticed him from the start, and as he grew older his father started entrusting more responsibilities onto Sebastian’s shoulders. Not that Sebastian minded - life in the royal palace was far more enticing than that in his family home. There were more interesting characters around, more people looking for fun, and more things to keep him occupied than the small castle in Framlingham. Court was where he belonged, and that was where he stayed after his father’s death.
The late king James had always been a sort of mentor to Sebastian, the closest thing he ever had to an older brother. He taught him how to navigate the court in a more practical way than his father had. He always respected Sebastian, even if he was younger than him in age, and the two had become good friends in no time. When James ascended the throne, Sebastian found himself in the inner circle, one of the most trusted people in James’ court and one of the most influential advisors.
The death of James shook England to the core, and Sebastian too. He mourned the loss of a great friend, of a brother. The circulating rumors had reached his ears too, and some days he wondered just how true they could be. Yet he refused to voice his concerns out loud, for the sake of the family he was so loyal too. Sebastian retained his position in the new English king’s court, hoping that he was not supporting the man who brought an early demise to his friend James. He has his focus on making sure that thought his advice, he helps England remain a credible power in such devastating times. It is better than spending time wondering if he was loyal to a man who could have harmed the man he had always been loyal to.
