( lucy liu, cisfemale, she/her, forty eight )Â â announcing ZHAO MIN LI, the CAPTAIN OF THE EMPRESSâS GUARD from THE MING DYNASTY ! upon closer look, they resemble LUCY LIU. it is a miracle that SHE survived the last five years and for that reason, they are AGAINST the kingdoms working together. reflecting on them now, they remind me of DROPS OF BLOOD SOAKING THROUGH CLOTH, WHISPERED KISSES IN DESERTED HALLWAYS, THE SOUND OF BLADE SPLINTERING WOOD.Â
min li grew up as the youngest ( and only ) daughter of a high ranking officer in the emperorâs guard. he raised his children as little soldiers. for as long as she could remember, she was put up against her brothers in all kinds of competitions to win their fatherâs approval.Â
years were spent training at the blade and at battle strategy. it soon became clear that the runt of the litter was the superior fighter, to her brothersâ collective dismay. they turned against her, sabotaging her every step of the way. at seventeen, min decided to join the army - she knew her brothers were only holding her back, and she wouldnât put it past them to dispose of her if she kept taking all the family glory. so she left.Â
finally, after years of being in her own little army, she found her purpose. she climbed the ranks easily, challenging anyone who made their dissent of her known. she easily made a name of herself in the ming dynasty - so much so that she became the captain of the empressâ guard at twenty five years old. she grew close with the empress, and her whole life is devoted to keeping her safe.Â
when the emperor was murdered, she redoubled her efforts. now, in switzerland, sheâs suspicious of everyone, and trusts no one - especially no one in the ming dynasty.Â
MARGUERITE WATCHED AS her servants placed a table for two in her drawing room. sheâd requested a private supper with her eldest daughter. she liked keeping tabs on all of her children, yet some she deemed needed a little extra involvement than others. with anaâs betrothal going as well as being betrothed to an englishman could go, she had her sights set on her beloved yet rebellious annette. she poured herself a glass of french wine sheâd specifically brought with her on the trip to switzerland ( sheâd rather join the nunnery than drink anything but the best french wines ) while she waited for her daughter.
she turned as the door opened, a smile pulling at her lips as her eyes scanned the princess before her. âah, annette. ma chère. itâs been too long. you must be keeping busy. working towards a possible engagement, perhaps?â the words are sweet as ever, though the look in the queenâs eyes is anything but. she was well aware of her eldestâs - ah - aversion to the notion of marriage. marguerite always secretly admired her daughter for being so headstrong. this was no longer the case, as it interfered with the familyâs core values. MONEY.Â
AS STEREOTYPICAL AS it was - the queen of france enjoyed nothing more than to walk through a garden. any garden. there was so much to learn about a place, and the person who took care of it, by the state of itâs garden. despite herself, she had to admit this one was beautiful. she walked through the rose bushes, inspecting them carefully so as not to prick herself on the thorns.Â
she turned as she heard a figure approach, and put on a reserved smile as she saw her daughterâs betrothed stand before her. âthank you for meeting me here, your highness.â gathering up her skirts, she bowed into a quick curtsy, one sheâd been rehearsing for over forty years now. âi dare not take too much of a princeâs time. i did that enough as a young lady.â the accented words are spoken quietly as she finally let go of the rose sheâd been inspecting. âi donât mean to be too forward, i canât help but to ask - how are things with ma chère anastasia?â she ends her prying question with an innocent smile upon her rouged lips.
MARGUERITE SWEPT INTO her daughterâs quarters like she owned the place. although, if she DID own the place, she certainly would do a better job on all aspects of keeping a castle. she kept her reproachful thoughts about their surroundings herself - knowing better than to upset her hosts. even so, she couldnât help but to keep an air of disdain as she made her way through the halls.Â
âmon amour,â the words fell gracefully from her lips with a tight smile as she called for her daughter from the drawing room. âcome give your mother a kiss.â an instruction is never too far behind a loving name when speaking to her children. she paced the room while waiting, taking note of the embellishments on the walls and the furs, mentally tallying the expenses of the room. once upon a time, her own castle was much more lavish than this, yet losing almost everything did nothing to humble the queen.Â
(gillian anderson, cisfemale, she/her, 52)Â â announcing marguerite bourbon, Â the queen of france ! in a recent portrait they seem to resemble gillian anderson. 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 sickly sweet saccharine smiles, frantic notes scribbled onto pages that are thrown in a fire, rubies and emeralds draped over soft skin.Â
NAME: marguerite de bourbon
AGE: fifty two
ORIENTATION: if she would give herself a chance, bisexual.
marguerite grew up in the french countryside in her fatherâs large estate.
her mother passed while giving birth to marguerite. her father, a cold man, had only one soft spot, and that was for her mother. he never remarried, and in lieu of an heir, he was determined to make his daughter a QUEEN. days were spent in her fatherâs dark study, learning how to become a woman from a man who never spoke to one since his mother. she inherited her motherâs looks, and her fatherâs wits. although her education in some more subtle areas of life were lacking, she was quick enough on her feet to roll with the punches.
when the betrothal was announced to the prince (future king) of france, she burst from silent halls in an empty estate and into the kingâs court.Â
though she was smart - she was still a naive teenager. lessons were learned, and marguerite hardened. she had to, to survive. she had fancied the idea that maybe her and the king were meant to be. an all around power couple. their wedding was a grand affair, and marguerite was a beautiful bride. it wasnât enough to stop her new husbandâs ways. she knew of the whispered stories in the kitchens of the man and his promiscuity, and for her own sanity, she chose to ignore it all.
that is, until he fathered a child that was not hers.Â
every waking moment was a reminder of his infidelity. with time, she learned to shun the mere thought of the dauphin. she had done everything in her power to convince the king to keep him away from the family - instead, he gave him a title. the bitterness eased slightly when her first daughter was born. being a mother had never come easily to the pragmatic, cold marguerite. but hell - she tried. one thing marguerite was good at - keeping up appearances. she lived lavishly, and though she bore no love for her husband, she lived lavishly and drowned her sorrows in imported wine, jewels, and raising her children to be as ruthless ( and fucked up ) as her.
the plague took everything from marguerite. though she should have been humbled by poverty, it only made her fiercer in her mission to regain the life she once had.Â
after all, what was she without silks and diamonds?Â