Winter Rose

altofairbayne-deactivated201407

A Walk Among the Roses | Pascella & Drago.

Escaping from a large crowd of people was all too easy for Drago. No one would miss him, not when all of the attention was on his nephews. That, he could thank them for because he desperately needed some air. After slipping out of the banquet hall, Drago began to walk the empty corridors of the palace, not really going anywhere in particular. After a few minutes some of the halls began to look the same if it weren’t for the different tapestries and portraits. Looking up at the paintings it reminded him of Etienne, making him smile a bit.

Turning away, Drago walked down to the main garden, following a path with short hedges. This was his favorite way of mindless walking when he needed to get away. The certain flowers surrounding the area seemed to help with headaches and calm his mood. But he stopped in his tracks when he spotted a woman examining some of the flowers. Her long dark hair billowing over her shoulders and down her back. Her pale skin almost glowing in the light of the torches around them. It was only when she said his name did he recognize who she was.

“Pascella,” Drago returned, rather surprised, but gave a short bow anyways. The venom in her voice that she held for him, he deserved and she knew it. The last time Drago saw her was at her wedding day to Deston, after that he followed Andromaque wherever she went. He didn’t doubt that his sister had bottled up hatred for both of them after that time. But she should have been greatful for such a marriage- and to the King at that.

Pascella, he noticed, was taller and grew into a womanly figure. Her face was structured, like Andromaque’s, but her skin was several shades paler than theirs. Most likely from being in the North for that time.

“Not one for joining your husband at the banquet?” he quipped with a tilt of his head, his dark eyes staring- challenging her. She seemed to hold herself right, but she was so wrong to think that she was higher than he was. She was his little sister after all.

#dragobeauroza #t: a walk among the roses

Pascella could not say she was pleased to see her brother, she would have rather remained her solitude. The North had given her a distaste for company, people only broke you down and betrayed you, or so she had learned. She had been in the game of the crown long enough to realise everyone was in it for themselves. Her brother was no different, although he held no claim to the throne he still followed Andromaque whenever she went and stood by her. Everyone preferred her sister, Pascella had come to understand, they saw her as the true Queen and Pascella as some sort of abomination.

"No." Pascella replied almost instantly to his comment. "I do not like to share the company of my husband, and I am not fond of banquets." But how would you know, she thought, you barely even know me. It was no secret that Pascella loathed Deston, indeed she could not voice such opinions for fear of losing her head, although everyone knew what Deston planned to do with his wife once his temper ran short of her. She had failed to do her duty as Queen and because of that she would pay the press, even if she could not help it.

"Why are you here?" She inquired, but her words were not kind, instead laced with venom and irritation, proof that she would indeed prefer to be alone. "I would have thought you'd be glued to Andromaque, as you always are." She hated them for that, but it was hatred that stemmed from jealousy. That the two of them had each other and always had, whilst Pascella had no one. It had made her bitter and resentful toward them and it showed.

But surely Drago had not come out here believing a warm welcome from his sister would be close behind? That she had forgotten the wrongs that he and Andromaque had done to her, leaving her to freeze in the Winter snow as they prospered in the Summer heat. Pascella would never forget and she doubted she would ever forgive. There were times she missed her siblings and wished they could all be together, but when she was faced with the two of them she remembered her hatred for them and wondered how she could have ever missed the pair that placed their happiness before her and showed her what she did without.

A Walk Among the Roses | Pascella & Drago.

Pascella was wandering around in the chambers that Andromaque had set her up in during her stay in Queensgarden. They were indeed a lot different than the rooms in Winterhaven. There was no need here for a large open fire to create heat, or for numerous furs to lavish the bed on a cold night. Instead she had a balcony that sent in warm air, where flowers curled up the stone pillars and entwined themselves neatly for the warm breeze to catch them. Flowers in Winterhaven was a rare sight, the snow there had settled on top of everything and stole life away, and she was no different. The cold icy weather of the north had frozen her heart and turned it to stone, until all the thoughts that filled her mind were bitter ones, full of hate and scorn and self pity that no one else dare give her. Even Andromaque, her proud sister was viewed higher than Pascella ever was in her own Court. Simply because the Court of Wintehraven loathed their Queen because their King wanted it so, and if Deston was unhappy then of course everyone else had to be. Pascella would sooner see his head on a spike, yet to voice those thoughts out load would result in her head on a spike faster than she could get back to Winterhaven.

I will not please them, Pascella thought, to like it here. If she even admitted for one second that she enjoyed the warm airs of Queensgarden more than she did Winterhaven she would be admitting defeat, to admit that Andromaque had won the game they were playing, that she had it all, whilst Pascella had to make do with what she had. Her sister was allowed to pick and choose everything she ever had, whereas Pascella was merely given something and told to make do with it. One of those things had been her husband, a man she grew to loathe entirely over time and it was no secret to anyone else. Oh, how she hated the Winslows, how she hated the North. What terrible thing had she ever done to deserve such a life? And when would her suffering end and for once feel the thing of happiness? It seemed she never would.

But alas she could not sit in her chambers all day and mope like she would much prefer to do in Winterhaven, she was to go and enjoy herself. yet however much she loved it here, the thought of the cold winds of Winter would call her back soon enough and remind her that life was not kind to girls who let their mind wander too far.

Pascella moved off her bed and went to the door of her chambers and left them, winding down the small staircase until she came to the Courtyard. Where the same flowers that curled themselves around her balcony began. It was lovely out here, she thought as she walked down a small pathway lined with short hedges that went no higher than her calf. She was examining a pretty rose that was a mysterious shade of pink when she heard someone interrupt her solitude. Her eyes glanced up to find it was her brother. A man she had not seen in quite some time and if truth be told, she cared not to see him at all. He was like Andromaque, he gloated too much of his pretty things and reminded her she had none.

"Drago." She said, once she knew that avoiding this situation would be impossible. Immediately she felt awkward and uncomfortable, like she did when she was around the King of the North. Drago, she had come to realise, was hardly a brother to her and Andromaque was barely a sister, family did not abandon family and that w a truth Pascella wouldn't forget easily.

#dragobeauroza #t: a walk among the roses

Bittersweet | Pascella & Andromaque.

Pascella would be lying if she said she didn't prefer Queensgarden to Winterhaven. Everything was so lovely here, she'd almost forgotten what green grass looked like when not plagued with a pile a snow. Or blooming flowers with vibrant colours that grew in every corner of the garden Pascella was walking through, in Winterhaven all the roots had frozen over and the buds of Spring had died long ago. Spring didn't exist in Winterhaven, the only thing that remained was the perpetual Winter that hung over everything. But Pascella didn't get to feel the warm joys of this land, soon she would be back in the North freezing half to death while her sister prospered here. It wasn't fair. Why was it that Andromaque got all the choices whilst Pascella was stuck with all the ones she didn't want?

Indeed Pascella would not be silly enough to actually allow her sister to know that she was enjoying herself here, to let her know she hated the North, even if it was no secret to everyone. Pascella would never give up her pride and allow her sister to know that she'd won. The next time Andromaque visited the North, Pascella would take her on a long, cold walk upon the snowy mountains and allow her to freeze and shiver as she grinned with the pride of it. But those thoughts were cruel, Pascella sooned realised, but why did she care? After all her sister had done upon her. There were times when Pascella would lie alone in bed at night and wish to be with them, both of them, Andromaque and Drago, of things to go back to how they were as children in their happiness. But as soon as Pascella arrived in Queensgarden and realised all she was missing out on she remembered just how much she loathed them, with a bitter jealousy that had only worsened over the years.

By the roses bushes, Pascella saw a figure emerge. One she knew almost instantly to be her sister. Andromaque had requested they go on a walk now that Pascella was here and they could catch up. Yet Pascella could hardly understand what was to be caught up on, it was probably an attempt for Andromaque to gloat about all the things she had and Pascella didn't. If that were the case, this would be an awfully slow and bitter walk. Queen she may be, but she was her sister first, respect in that case would be as much as Andromaque showed her, which would knowingly be very little.

"Andromaque." Pascella said flashing an obviously forced smile upon her lips, it seemed the constant winter had left her in a gloom. "How good it is to see you." She said, trying to perk her spirits up the smallest bit. She loved her sister, but when she was faced with all the splendor Andromaque lived within, she loathed her just as much.

#andromaquebeauzora #t: bittersweet #I hope this is alright! :)

Heavy Heart || Vaelerie & Pascella

Vaelerie had expected such a reaction from Pascella, she would have probably acted in a similar manner had someone insinuated such things about her own family member. As usual her smile never faltered, quite a sinister and cunning trait which Vaelerie had long since mastered, her smiles meant everything and nothing at all, no one particularly knew what it meant when she smiled. Usually it was a sign of happiness, but true happiness was an emotion seldom felt by the eldest Winslow. “Well, he will have nothing to worry about will he.”

For once Vaelerie laughed, again her true meaning behind the action a mystery, “nor have the Beauroza’s ever liked the Winslow’s.” She tilted her head slightly, sloshing the wine around in her chalice, “and yet Drago was the one to initiate the proposal. But I am not so stubborn that I do not recognise a good match when I see one, our Kingdom’s will be united once and for all, no more war, just peace.” Her words held some truth, although her true motives behind the agreement of the marriage were not made out of acts of peace, they were made to secure her daughters own right to the throne.

Again she laughed as Pascella uttered about getting rid of her, the look within the woman’s eye was one of pure challenge, she was threatened by her and Vaelerie could sense it. “Now, now Pascella, you must think me a fool?” She asked leaning forward to pour herself another chalice of wine, “What point would there be in getting rid of you?” Yet.

#vaeleriewinslow #t: heavy heart

Pascella could easily tell that Vaelerie was patronizing her, yet she had came to believe that this woman could do little else but speak down to people as though she had some authority that Pascella was not yet aware of. Indeed she did not allow this woman's annoyance and irritation to show on her face, for that is exactly what Vaelerie thrived on she knew.

"Oh, a marriage for peace?" Pascella turned her gaze back to the woman with a smirk pondering on her lips. "Surely the Winslows do not marry for peace alone." She shook her head and made a face of a condescending manner. "For look at me, what peace do I have?" She regretted saying that the instant the words had left her lips. Vaelerie was a very dangerous woman and Pascella already knew she was walking on thin ice in Court, the very reason she had been avoiding her husband as to not upset him for some reason, she did not want to be rid of just yet.

Indeed, Pascella kept her expression masked of all emotion. Fear would be an unwise feeling to show in front of the woman before her, Vaelerie was like some sort of demon that fed on fear and negative emotion, especially toward Pascella, a girl the other Winslow woman didn't like. Pascella had wondered if Vaelerie had ever liked her, when she was the young girl all those years ago new at Court, or if her hatred had grown over the years when she failed to produce heirs. Pascella cared little of course, she could barely imagine what a friendship with this woman would be like, possibly painful. The entire Winslow family was a hateful one, Pascella had long since realised.

"Hardly a fool, Vaelerie." Pascella went on, bringing her goblet to her lips to take a sip. "I would very well like to know myself why you intend to be rid of me." She shrugged her shoulders. "But I will put it in my best interest to find out." A vicious sort of smile played on her lips.

Jousting | Pascella & Wiley.

Pascella always did enjoy Jousts, she loved the atmosphere of the crowd and waiting with bated breath to see the outcome of a man galloping on his horse toward another, the anticipation of seeing whether they would be sent from the saddle and onto the dirt. The one thing she didn't enjoy was going to support her husband, or rather giving the impression she did. Having to tie a piece of silky ribbon around his lance as a token of her gratitude toward him as her King and a good luck gesture. It was all merely to keep the crowd happy of course, all of the Knights received a token from their beloved and eyebrows would be raised if Pascella didn't grant Deston the same. She knew her husband would much prefer it was Andromaque that showed him true devotion, and Pascella saw the harder Deston galloped with a fierceness only reserved for Millard Tyce when they were both up. Was it wrong for Pascella to hope Deston would be sent from his horse and injured? But then she would have to pretend she was physically upset about the whole thing, despite the entire court knowing they loathed each other and that the King planned to get rid of her.

But indeed it seemed luck was on her side today of all days, for who should be set soaring into the dirt as a lance shattered in his side, but Deston Winslow. Half of the crowd gasped with hatred for the apposing Knight whilst the other half roared with delight. Pascella had forgot herself for a moment and for her spirits verging on gleeful and clapping with the latter half of the crowd and a wide smile on her lips.

And then she realised. I'm not supposed to be laughing. What if someone had saw her? She gasped immediately and felt her face drop f all happy emotion and reached her hand behind her out of shock to grab something, it did not look good for a Queen to be laughing at her injured King. Deston would be informed immediately and she'd be gone all the quicker. It just so happened the thing she put her hand on was not a pillar of wood or back of a bench but a man's arm. Startled by her lack of courtesy and sheer foolishness she hopped back and glance up quickly at the man who had, to her dismay, been watching her the entire time.

"Oh... Oh goodness, I'm so sorry!" She said quickly, wishing the ground would gobble her up already. She flt the crowds move to exit around her, the King had lost and it seemed Deston didn't want to play anymore, he was like a spoilt child when he didn't get his way. Some wine and food would be served for the onlookers up in the castle while the King of the North brooded over his embarrassment. But where did that leave Pascella?

"I- Oh I wasn't laughing at the King." Pascella said quickly, trying to back trap her steps, unable to know what this gentleman saw. "I was laughing... Laughing at the... The horrible outfits. Oh nevermind." By talking, she'd realised, she was making herself sound even more stupid.

#therebellioussolider #do i get points for my amazing title? -____-

the-lion-errant-deactivated2013

Late Night Intruder | Pascella & Romain

Such a wonder to feel one’s fingers go numb.

Romain held the bowl of the pipe in one hand, marveling at the burn. Heat was a stranger creature in Winterhaven than it was in Fervention. He never grew tired of playing with the coals. Fire was more interesting contrasted against ice. Every so often he’d puff, and watch the red heat consume the little burl of pipeweed. The fumes filled his lungs with a pleasant burn. When he exhaled, the gray smoke-cloud danced and dissipated in a fascinating swirl. Romain, always hunting for new marvels, found that he liked this Northern habit of pipe-smoking a great deal. The peddler had been right—a rarity in itself. He had not been so pleased with a purchase since the harp he’d broken over the buck-toothed man’s head.

It was better to pursue this particular pleasure out of doors, though, leaning against a wall. The smoke, sweet in small doses, would sear the inside of his nose if he let it collect in any sort of windowless room, and so here he was, in the cold, indulging. When he was done, he would dump the ash into the snow to be lost. If there were other bodies wandering about, then he did not pay them much mind. Romain had the sort of stature that discouraged nonsense.

“Who’s there?” called a woman’s voice. Romain looked up, standing straight and away from the wall. She spoke a little more, and he realized who it was. Her bearing and speech were unmistakable.

“Your Majesty,” Romain said, bowing without flourish. He obeyed, revealing himself readily. He wore the heavy northern mantle over his broad shoulders, the stout northern boots on his feet, and looked every part a denizen of Winterhaven—except for his southern accent and styles, he had settled into his new life completely. “Forgive me. I didn’t think anyone would mind me at this hour.”

#thelionerrant #t: late night intruder

Pascella didn't know what she expected to see looming out at her from across the yard. Was she naive enough to believe it was a hungry wolf that had followed her back from the forest edge? Luckily she didn't have to put that thought to reason when she saw a face lurch out from the wall and recognised it to be Romain. A man she had allowed to stay here in their court, much to her husband's disdain. Indeed he could not very well refuse her in front of an entire Court but she did manage to have her ear chewed off later by him when they were alone, that she dare speak back to her King and make such demands. When Pascella knew the real reason for his anger was that his pride had been broken by his own wife. She would have shed him an ounce of sympathy if she cared for him, she did not.

"Ah, Romain." Her face softened from anger and fear to that of kindness and warmth, she barely showed anyone kindness in this Court. She normally always held an expressionless face of a cold ice Queen simply suitable for these parts. But it was not because she wanted to act the part, it was merely because she was certain this land had froze away her feelings and soft thoughts to that of hatred and scorn. Luckily Romain was such a person that avoided her bad tempers, as were her many nieces whom she held a soft spot for.

"No, no... I do not mind where you choose to wander at whatever hour." She said, her words held a certain unusual sweetness. Pascella barely realised that her feet were moving across the Court toward him, the idea of sleep had simply left her. She was glad, truth be told that she had caught Romain where he could not run off, something which she found rather unusual given she had went out of her way to grant him residence in these parts.

"I am glad to have caught you, in fact." She went on, finally reaching where he stood against a cold stone wall covered in frost that would soon turn to ice. "I was beginning to think you were avoiding me." A gentle smile spread across her lips, it felt odd to genuinely smile and feel happy to see someone, given she loathed so many in this Court and to smile was merely an act of well learnt mannerisms than anything else.

"Why is it you are out here, in this cold?" She inquired. It was not a demand but rather a pure curiosity. "You will sooner catch your death Romain, these parts are like nothing you know- the snows here could bury a man and freeze him to the bone, until he is nothing left but food for the wolves." She had seen many a man get lost in the woods at night, it had taken months to find him and when they eventually did, they were just bone, carcasses that had every ounce of meat tore from them and their corpse left to rot in the perpetual wilderness.

"I should hope no such thing will happen to you." She concluded with a smitten sort of smile, acting in a way she never had before, indeed she might have felt feelings similar to this when she was just married at such a young age, but with a husband like Deston such feelings did wither out quickly.

Late Night Intruder | Pascella &

It was late, and Pascella knew that she shouldn't be up so late, especially not out trailing around the castle grounds at this hour. Her handmaidens had left her a while ago, when she'd dismissed them and told them she would get herself ready for bed, but that was something she didn't do. Instead she left her bedchambers to roam around the grounds for a bit. Her head was too clouded with thoughts that would eat away at her mind and not allow her to sleep anyway, so what was the point of rolling around a large empty bed until the sun broke through her window.

They were not unfamiliar thoughts though, they were the same thoughts that ate away at her from morning until night everyday. How much she loathed it here, how jealous she was of her siblings who were down in the south happily prospering in the sunshine while their sister was left here to freeze in the snow. No one, Pascella had realised a long time ago, cared for her here. Her own husband, she knew, was plotting her death and if she stepped one foot out of line she knew that that would be the end of her. Indeed it was not something that shocked her, a Queen that couldn't give her King heirs was a burden that should soon be rid of. Pascella hoped to prolong her stay here a little longer, to concoct some sort of plan to stop that happening.

The last snow of the night had fell and Pascella had decided that it was simply getting too cold out here to stay any longer, and she didn't fancy someone coming to find a frozen body in the morning. So, she decided to return to her bedchambers and not speak of her daily nightly gallivants to anyone. But there was something that caught her attention, a figure of sorts. It was not a guard or a Knight or anyone that usually hung around the castle at this hour, it was someone new.

Immediately, Pascella felt unsafe; which was odd since she traveled the forests full of beasts many times alone and never felt anything so close to fear. "Who's there?" She called out into the darkness. "Show yourself!"

#open #para #late night intruder

townleys

11/50 photos of Katie McGrath

#images

What Brings You Here? | Pascella & Myra.

myratyce

Myra laughed, knowing that she was just a little foolish for having rode off into the woods, she could feel the chill on her face even now, still draped in fabrics and furs. She would never wish to live in Winterhaven, it was not quite for her. But she appreciated it in what it was and exploring it had suited her for a time.

”I’m aware. But I suppose I had to be the curious fool for a night or something would be wrong in the world.” She loved to adventure off, no matter where, to rest among the world, not the people that inhabited it. To smell the fresh pines and listen to the crunch of snow under her horses gallops, there was a splendor to that which no party or poet could quiet capture. Still, Myra would not venture on her lonesome again. She knew the Queen would know better of these lands than her, even at Myra’s wisest. Her intelligence was that of the books when it came to harsh chill. It would be best she go out in nothing less than a pair, be it with her sister or King Deston, whomever it may be.

Myra was content to be accompanied back inside to the warmth that welcomed her in the way a kind greeting might. She would be more inclined to love such warmth even in the beauty of the North. It was habit. The winds of Queensgarden were much different than those here.

”I am Lady Myra Tyce, Your Majesty. It is quite alright, I do not scare so easy and I should be grateful for information that I would otherwise not posses. It is far different here from what I know and I knew that to be the case.” She would most certainly heed the Queen’s warning for it was wise that she did. And it was few and far between that Myra would choose to be unwise. The furs were quick to become too warm within the walls of the castle but she showed no signs of discomfort, only gratitude.

#myratyce #para #t: what brings you here

The name Tyce sparked something of knowledge within Pascella. She was well aware of the Tyce's, it was the name her sister had married into, a name well known in Queensgarden but not so much here. No doubt the King would be unimpressed than a name such as this would be filling the castle, but it did not matter in the least to Pascella. She was like a doll with a painted smile that did nothing, to be spoken only when spoken to and to live up to the King's good graces. Pascella had done neither of those things and so it was no surprise to her that the King wanted rid of her.

"Ah, Lady Tyce." Pascella said with a gentle smile, this woman seemed kind enough, only travelling the woods out of a gentle curiousity and it was perhaps something she was well used to back in Queensgarden but here, no one dared venture the thick snows, especially not at night. And if one did, they would have to be certain of the place beforehand.

"I cannot imagine what you hoped to see on your venture through our woods." Pascella went on, her tone held no malice, only a simple humour. "I can assure you they are more disappointing than that of Queensgarden. It is just a land of snow and ice in a shelter of bare trees." It was a hateful prison, she also wanted to tell her that, but she could not. As Queen of this place she had to love it, she had to adore the gentle cold nature of Winterhaven and she had to relish in it.

"Although I can most agree that I would rather be out in the cold woods at this hour than in that hall, such stuffy company we have to offer!" A wide smile of amusement held on her face. Such things were not befitting of a queen, to talk down of the company but she cared little. They were no friends of hers, they were friends of the King and she held no love and compassion for him, and if the hall was filled with guests of Queensgarden she could even very well doubt they wanted to be there.

"You must be cold?" Pascella commented, Myra was perhaps more used to the sun, her clothing was probably a lot lighter too. In Winterhaven they only knew cold, winter days, where clothing was not for beauty or for appearance, but for warmth. Big thick furs and coats hid any pretty garment.

"Come, we can go back to my quarters and I shall get the maid to fetch us something hot to drink." Pascella told the girl with a kind smile. This Myra did not seem hostile or nasty, unlike so many here. "Unless of course, you would prefer to go back to the hall, by all means; please do not let me stop you."

Treading with care || Wiley & Pascella.

"My lips are sealed, Your Majesty." Wiley chuckled before he nodded with much gratitude. Honestly, he had expected Pascella to be the opposite of what she was now. He expected to hate her, wanting to damn her to damnation every second they spoke but instead he actually found her kind, but he also pitied her, for it was more than clear no one adored or even liked her.

At this moment he wasn’t sure whether to panic, that he should flee and grab the girls and run away or stead fast and fight if he had to. Instead he decided to go with a diversion. Asking her to dance with him, to which she agreed. So as she offered him her hand he took it and guided her towards the middle of the room. Of course it gave them some eye, as the Queen danced with an ‘unknown’ man.

After the dance however he would tell her that he had some other people to attend to, and so he had. He sincerely hoped that she would forget his name, or that she hadn’t expected him to be one of the rebels. He could just well have been the cause for their exposure.

So when the dance ended, he applauded for the musicians before walking off with her again. Giving her a solemn smile. “Your Majesty.. I must leave you for the night. Other people to talk to that I have to speak. Forgive me.”

#LOOK HOW MASSIVE THIS IS AHAHA #i'm sorry #therebellioussolider #para #t: treading with care

It was obvious to Pascella that Wiley had not meant to disclose his identity to her, that it was a common slip of the tongue. For now, he seemed more than eager to get away from her entirely. They danced for a brief number of minutes until the song concluded, to which he led her back to floor and muttered an excuse, that he had places to be.

"Not at all." She replied with a gentle smile, that did not hide her suspicion. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Wiley Pierce." Still she pretended to be naive, that the name meant nothing to her and that she was merely happy that this man had gave her the time of day, that so many had failed to do. Pascella was often seen as the innocent queen, without a notion of the goings on at Court, but she knew more than most and she knew this man was indeed the horrid criminal intent in taking her throne.

And so, Wiley Pierce had slithered off as quickly as he had came and Pascella resumed her place at the banquet table, keeping a close eye on him over her goblet, but she could not come upon him for the remainder of the night.

But the night did go on, and with it came the obnoxious drunken brawling of many people, the music resumed and the crowd got louder; old men cackling loudly and sloshing beer over one another whilst the women were more inclined to dance with more wine than they had been earlier, all the graces and decorum vanishing. Pascella had not seen Wiley and she feared that perhaps he had slipped into his room to collect his things and rush off into the night in fear of being caught; she would have to make haste.

Setting her goblet down she smiled sweetly at the drunken men and women who suddenly seemed more inclined to speak to her now they were full of wine, but she briskly pushed them off and escaped from the hall without anyone noticing her. Once she was in the silent solitude of the hallway her pace quickened, to the souther entrance, where was as she expected, two tall guards with swords in their belt and dressed all in black, hidden behind the pillars of the stone castle.

Pascella moved her head as if to urge them to follow her, before whispering "Come with me..." At first the two men looked at each other oddly, but given that a Queen had ordered them they could not refuse.

"Neither of you must tell my husband what we are about to do." Pascella said, marching down the hall with the two guards at her heel. "For he will have all our heads and no one would want that." Deston would be furious with her, but it would not make a change for her was normally always unhappy with Pascella and her choices. "Keep silent and I promise a nice reward."

"It has come to my attention that we are harbouring something of a criminal in the castle and I need you to help me capture him." The guards waited with bated breath as Pascella began mounting the winding staircase.

"I will interrogate him and not a word shall be spoken to anyone until I am done, do you understand?" She turned to meet their gaze, they seemed hesitant.

"That is treason, your majesty." One said.

"How?" Her brows furrowed. "I am not helping him, I am stopping him. The King will be informed when the time is right and only when I say so, he may reward us all." She gave them little time to answer or argue with her, before she pointed towards the tall dark door at the end of the corridor. "In there."

With a booming tremor the door was forced open by the two men, and Pascella entered the chambers of Wiley Pierce, suddenly she didn't feel so shy but perhaps triumphant, she had caught the criminal her husband intended to catch. How belittled he would feel that his own wife had bettered him.

"Ah... I had hoped to find you here." She grinned a nasty smirk at him. "I do apologise, where you going somewhere? This shouldn't take long." Her patronizing dark humour was one that was rarely shown, for so many in the castle loathed her and so many would end her life with the right word, Wiley was not a threat to her.

"You can either come with me now quietly and we can have a painless little conversation." She explained. "Or you can come against your will and I promise all the pain in the world; the choice is yours." She edged closer into the room, threateningly. "Either way Wiley Pierce, you are coming with me."

Heavy Heart || Vaelerie & Pascella

Vaelerie tilted her head slightly, regarding Pascella with a bemused smirk, perhaps the woman wasn’t as dull as she had first presumed. Their interactions had been few and sparse over the years, they never meshed, Deston would have probably found a reason to loath her also had she befriended the Queen he so very much despised, he was a petty man like that. Even if he hadn’t been, Pascella had never done anything to secure a friendship between them and Vaelerie had always found her a little plain, she had certainly not expected this little spurt of spirit.

Despite her short laugh, Vaelerie essentially disagreed with her judgment, “people said I had a good match” she began her eyes training on the dancing figures before her. “I believed so myself at first, but then he forced himself upon me, beat me, insulted me, did just about everything a husband should not do to his wife.” She paused taking a long sip of her wine, before turning her head back towards her sister-in-law, a small misplaced smile tugging at the corners of her lips, “do you think that to be a good match to?”

"Well you would say that wouldn’t you? He’s your brother." Vaelerie commented impassively, the smile never leaving her lips although she did sigh, "But I gather you are right, besides if anything did happen to her there would be enough people around here to make sure it never happened again."

#ooooh i love me some sassy #cat fight #ahah the claws are out! ;D #para #vaeleriewinslow #t: heavy heart

Pascella listened to her sister in law, having found she was being terribly patronizing yet Pascella wondered whether this was simply the way Vaelerie behaved or if it was entirely for her benefit that her tone was so condensing, Pascella decided it was the latter of her assumptions.

"Well I am so very sorry to hear that." Pascella said, even with her utter distaste for Vaelerie she could still feel some sympathy for the woman in her horrid marriage, no woman deserved a man's beating or any such behaviour. Pascella and Deston were as equally unhappy with each other, but Deston had never once raised his hand to her or forced himself upon her, yet the insults were always ripe and coming. Still, Pascella could only offer her little sympathy since Vaelerie was merely telling her all of this as if to belittle her own opinions.

"However." She went on. "My brother is not the sort to treat a woman as though she is a rabid dog." Pascella was almost sneering at her, as though Vaelerie was insinuating Drago was some sort of hateful beast similar to her late husband. Pascella had never been as close to Drago as her sister was, and she had seen little of her siblings over the years and when forced to greet them it was a frosty sort of greeting, mostly for Deston's benefit who still believed he had won Pascella over on manipulation, yet now that he had no heirs by her she could scarcely see why it mattered to him. Nevertheless, whatever sort of relationship she had with her brother, she would not allow Vaelerie to sit here and belittle him.

"I myself am quite surprised at the marriage agreement." She went on, taking a long sip of wine. The more she hung around in Vaelerie's company the more she realised she loathed the woman, by her mannerisms and mere lack of decorum that was only there for Pascella's benefit. "It is no secret to me that the Winslows have never much liked the Beauroza's." Or rather, it was obvious to her. "And yet, here you are allowing your daughter to marry my brother, I had thought you'd have gotten rid of me first Vaelerie." She met her gaze with a challenging look in her eye, one that secured Pascella's knowledge in whatever Vaelerie had been planning to do with her over the years, the words hung in the air like that of a taboo; something which should not be spoken of, yet here Pascella was bringing it up. Her shy self had felt a rush of dominance, no doubt the other woman would find this surprising from Pascella's normal state.

Treading with care || Wiley & Pascella.

"You’re welcome. " He said with a husky laugh. "I think." he added afterwards for he wasn’t sure whether to catch it as a compliment or as a sarcastic remark, nevertheless he kept the goofy grin on his lips .

If he hadn’t been mistaken, she actually looked sad. Pascella Beauroza was sad, shy even. It had been the last emotion or trait he had assigned to her, but then again he only heard word of her thus far. They hadn’t met at Queensgarden, which was in his luck otherwise she would have recognized him at an instance. “Your Majesty?” He slowly asked, asking her to explain herself, if she so cared to do so at least. “Your sister? Who i-”

There had been no requirement of him to ask who she was, for Pascella then motioned towards Andromaque. He had met her, been given a council with her back in Queensgarden with the other rebels. He pressed his lips tightly together, following Andromaque with his eyes until Pascella spoke again. He shouldn’t be going into this conversation. He should be carrying hate for the woman that was his enemy, but he actually felt pity, or compassion for her, which was odd, bluntly said.

"You are far from a disappointment, my Lady. First impressions count most, yours is better than I had with your sister, forgive me if I’m rude."

Stop talking Wiley, stop talking. You’re going to get yourself discovered. “Wiley Pierce.” He had answered in an automatism, only to freeze at the spot when he realised he had given his real name. What would Pascella think if he was to quickly change his surname? Surely it would draw more attention. So to prevent her from asking more about him, or to draw her thoughts from the fact his name might be familiar, he extended his hand.

"Would her Majesty perhaps like to dance? It would be a shame to not dance on the music the musicians play for all of us, wouldn’t it?"

#SORRY THIS IS SO LATE #LOVE ME #therebellioussolider #para #t: treading with care

Pascella kept her eye on Andromaque across the hall over her goblet as the gentleman continued to speak with her, her sister was bold and thrived on attention; she in actual fact was the true Queen, she was born for this kind of thing, Pascella noticed as she watched her with all her charismatic grace, Andromaque was given all the choices in life whilst Pascella had to take the ones her sister didn't want, like Deston for example.

"Oh, you are not rude." Pascella was quick to note when the charming gentleman next to her began speaking once again. "Merely honest, and I can quite agree that your meeting with my sister was less than pleasant." She let a small laugh escape her lips. "But you mustn't tell her I told you that or I fear we will both suffer for it." Pascella then realised she was perhaps being rude and decided to shift her attention wholly to this man who had made it significantly clear that he was going nowhere, she had expected him to merely greet her because he felt he had to and then scuttle off elsewhere, surprisingly; he had not. "But you are too kind."

She wondered who he could be, certainly not a friend of her husband's she decided immediately, Deston only kept company with sour agreeable men that shared his arrogance, devoting all their time to keeping in the King's good graces, and if this gentlemen were a friend of the King's then he certainly would not be here conversing with Pascella. Perhaps he was a resident of Queensgarden? But then his clear dislike of Andromaque had threw her off entirely- until he said his name.

Had he meant to reveal it? She wondered as she tugged her goblet to her lips immediately feeling a surge of dread and panic shoot through her. Deston always excluded her from conversations to do with Court, feeling it was not her place to be present, but she was no fool. She had heard of Wiley Pierce and how he intended to lay siege on Winterhaven. But surely someone so very kind as this was not a horrid person who would rob her of her throne? And he would not be so silly as to go and reveal himself to the Queen of such a place. Nevertheless, Pascella said nothing, ultimately fearing this Wiley had an agenda that she intended to get to the bottom of before the night, by herself no doubt; she would not involve Deston this time, for this did not concern him.

"It would be my pleasure." She said, not so fearful of Wiley any longer now that her own plans were simpering into her head, she felt so devilish. "Shall we?" She concluded, offering up her hand so they could lead their way to the floor, Pascella suddenly feeling a new air of confidence about her, that her otherwise shy self would have not.

Seeking Solitude | Pascella & Irene.

irenehaelstarv

It had been some days now since Irene had been introduced an opportunity of escape; how many, she was not certain. The days were lost as she had sometimes forgotten the difference between night and day in this place. There had been a persistent lingering thought of which occupied every waking moment just as were there thoughts seeking out alternatives. But with time, each alternative became less promising. Either death or freedom; either is fine.

Her behavior had a significant change that might have implied there was a sudden dip in her mentality. For the public eye, she wore her general facade, masked in a face of steel. Unchanging, hard and cold. In solitude, she wept for herself as though a woman might weep over a lost child. A single maiden would comfort her, but not even that would appease her sorrow. This night in particular, sorrow had won. From an unsteady sleep, she had woken. Without assistance, her feet guided her from the room. Loosely garnished in a white chemise, her only companion was a single candle to light the vacant corridors. Her steps were small, though they knew what they sought out. For once, she harbored no anguish.

Nearing an open window, a dainty smile played at her lips. With each step closer, there came to be a heavier breeze. Whether it was the cold breeze of a perpetual winter or her conscience succumbing to relief, she was not certain. She placed the candle atop the ledge. It was then that she peered over the edge, her cheeks greeted by a cold sting she was now accustomed to. Her wavering figure remained fixated in this position, though she thought of nothing. Death or freedom; either is fine.

Suddenly, her fingers clenched tighter against the stone. Leaning forward as though something caught her interest, there was a brief flicker of a smile. One far more sincere than she might have ever known. An abrupt voice to recognize was soon to her frightened her from her daze, forcing her to retract from the window.

"I… I needed a breath of air." Irene insisted, partially distraught by the presence of Pascella herself. It was difficult to look her in the eye, though Irene swore to herself that when she was queen, Pascella would be the safest maiden in Valedestoria. There was no need for a guilty conscience, yet it was still there. "I’m nearly twenty years of age. I’m not a girl. I know of dangers." Nervously, Irene glanced to the window as though seeking out that relief she had only a moment prior to now. It would not return for her, she knew. As well as she knew she was contemplating bringing upon her own death whilst there was no remorse. By bringing forth Pascella, perhaps it had been a sign from The Three. Could she defy their intents? To what horrid fate may she be damned in the afterlife had she been defiant against them? "Forgive me, Your Majesty. It is time I return to bed."

Slowly, she took two paces back to the window to retrieve her candle and smiled apologetically. “Do forgive me if there was an intrusion on on my behalf. It was not my intention. Have a well night, Your Majesty.”

#irenehaelstarv #para #t: seeking solitude

Pascella watched as Irene gazed out the window of the cold tower, as desolate and lonely as it was, Pascella perceived that perhaps Irene hadn't thought to be disturbed up here, where she thought she could freely go with her thoughts; not many people lurked up in the lonely towers of the icy fortress, they were eerie and dreadfully cold and only forgotten pieces of furniture and bits lay around up here, old tapestries grey with dust and broken stools with stacked books on top, laden with cobwebs.

When Pascella spoke she regretted it instantly, her immediate thought was why Irene was here and the dangers she was entering into alone in these parts, it hadn't crossed her mind that she might seek some privacy and hoped to get some, until Pascella rudely interrupted her and it was clear by Irene's expression that she had not expected her aunt to appear, possibly thinking she was already tucked up in her bed and not lurking around this empty forgotten place.

"A breath of fresh air would be better sought outside, would it not?" Pascella asked, finding holes in her words; surely going to the front Courtyard or opening her own bedroom window would be easier that clambering the icy steep steps to the tower. "And you know not of dangers." Pascella continued, not wanting to patronize her niece in any way; but she did not know the true dangers of this castle, that her uncle was one of them. She had been young once and believed she had knew everything as girls do, but she soon learned that was not the case.

But there was something else lingering in Irene's eyes. Pascella could see it, she had never been a terribly gleeful girl, always masking her sorrows, whatever they may be, behind a neatly practised smile that hung there day after day, until people began to forget she was sad and believed the expression on her face to be genuine. Pascella knew differently, she knew of unhappiness and she knew what one would do to cover it up, she could see the true sorrows behind Irene's eyes but they were not as common as they perhaps would have been; something else was bothering the girl. Not to mention, Pascella was well aware of Irene's distance with her aunt, how her niece avoided her more so now than she would have done before.

"There was no intrusion Irene, do not apologise." Pascella said, her tone holding much concern for the younger across from her holding a candlestick. It was easy to see Irene was quick to scuttle off and avoid any coming conversation Pascella might want to have with her, but Pascella was certain that was not going to happen. "Forgive me for startling you."

"Wait." She said almost urgently, so that Irene would not run off too quickly and hide herself away in her bedchamber's and allow her thoughts to plague her there. Pascella touched her arm and met her gaze with concern. "What is that is bothering you?" There was certainly something. Pascella always did have excellent observation but why wouldn't she? She had little to do all day but stare at the expressions of people, watch them and read them as though they were open books, being able to see true happiness and sorrow when it presented itself. Yes, Irene had never been a terribly happy being but her sorrow now was out of the ordinary, as was her strange behaviour.

"You do know you can tell me anything, don't you?" Her heart truly went out to the girl, she didn't want Irene to go to her room and fret when she could easily come to Pascella with her matters and she would listen. "I won't tell a soul. You can trust me." She edged in a small gentle smile to her niece, finding she would be truly hurt if Irene believed she couldn't confide in Pascella, who would not breathe a word to anyone.

What Brings You Here? | Pascella & Myra.

myratyce

Since the arrival of the Tyce family there had been festivities day in and day out. Grandeur, laughing and dancing, great feasts. In it’s nature it was all so lovely, made to suit even the finest of appetites. But while Myra could appreciate the gestures, could partake in every other little thing, she so valued her own time, what the world had to offer her. Part of Winterhaven’s appeal was it’s vast differences from Queensgarden and she wanted to be able to appreciate them as much as she could. After all, how often would she be able to enjoy it?

One of their mares, white of the moon, had been more than good company to her when she rode out at sunset, cloaked in furs to hide away from the harsh cold of the brittle air. While the whipping winds did not bother her, she was not suited for this weather and she knew that well.

When twilight was nearing it’s end, she had the common sense to ride back from her venture out. The cold was picking up strength and soon she would be blind and frozen if she did not think wisely.

Upon her return, however, she did not expect to be greeted by the Queen of Winterhaven. Pascella did not share her affinity for a kind heart, that was what tongues spoke of her. A rose who had certainly not shed her thorns but rather wore them with pride. However, there was something to be admired in that. Myra did not truly know the woman on a personal level and who would she be to call her out or loathe her simply on the foul words of others.

”Your Majesty.” Myra bowed her head and curtseyed briefly. “I am not one for such grand parties most of the time. Not to offend, it is merely not always for me.” She could enjoy the festivities, dance and laugh in merriment, but sometimes she needed a midnight ride or time to lay out on the green, at least she would in Queensgarden. Here, she had to make some new rules.

#myratyce #para #t: what brings you here

Pascella watched as the woman jumped from her horse and turned to address her, it was deathly cold out here, especially at night and Pascella was growing chilly; she wondered how the girl felt out riding this late.

"That's quite alright." Pascella commented, knowing that some loathed parties, she merely loathed the company she shared but didn't mind them at the best of times. In any case, she couldn't quite understand what would make anyone want to venture into the dark to get away from the loud shrewdness of such gatherings, yet Pascella had to remind herself that some people found this place beautiful- she had merely been in Winterhaven too long to appreciate it's beauty, all she seen was an icy fortress where the cold sucked every ounce of happiness from you.

"But there are other things to do than catch your death." Pascella added with a simple chuckle. "And I cannot imagine what you ought to see in this darkness." For the night was as dark as coal and as cold as a place trapped in Winter should be. "Come along inside." She went on, to go and meet the girl at the bottom of the steps, steps that often froze and became slippery.

"The woods are dangerous at night- had you fallen no one would have heard your cries and you may have frozen to death." Pascella said through the dark courtyard, they were the only two out here and somehow Pascella appreciated the silence, it was loud inside and so very warm. Although a second ago she was glad to be in the cold where the chill would cool her but now she wished she were back in front of an open fire, she understood this girl perhaps felt similar but it was rude to assume, and she doubted very much that this woman would complain of the cold if she were out galloping through the woods at dark.

Besides that, Pascella didn't mean to cold or frighten the woman, merely only warn the obvious Queensgarden bred girl that Winterhaven was quite different. "I do not mean to frighten you." She added with a wistful smile. "Just a warning- besides, what is your name?" Her tone was a lot kinder, feeling slightly guilty for lecturing the woman for being foolish when she did not know, something like a mother would do, she supposed.

Treading with care || Wiley & Pascella.

As the woman turned around he stood frozen on his place, for he instantly recognized the woman in front of him; Pascella Beauroza. Queen of Winterhaven. Wife of King Deston. Way to go of keeping yourself anonymous, Wiley. He thought to himself before he would flash her a smile, handing her the handkerchief.

"That’s the key to losing something. You never notice that you do." He replied to her before lowering his hand as she had taken the handkerchief from him again. "You are most welcome, Your Majesty."

He bowed for her, his hand pressed against his chest. He spoke in a softer tone, now that he wasn’t trying to be funny, even though it had merely been a try to get himself to relax under the situation of standing in front of the woman he was to oppose, but perhaps it was a good thing. This way he might find out things more easier, if it went through the Queen herself.

Might I be so bold to ask… What the Queen is doing here all by her own? Someone so important as her?”

#therebellioussolider #para #t: treading with care

This man seemed charming, but his charm almost seemed rehearsed. To the fickle heart of a young soul he would seem utterly lovely and many a young girl would be smitten by that smile or the way his hair sat upon his head. Pascella however was not young and her heart was not woozy on the idea of love with a handsome face, it was something she had seen all too often, the devil hid behind such kind eyes and evil lurked in his smile.

"Well I thank you kindly for reminding me what it is I lost." She replied with a smile, knowing her ideals of both everyone in this Court were made from paranoia, that somehow everyone was against her, even this stranger who had done nothing but be kind to a woman he had never met.

"I ask myself the same question." She replied, looking out onto the crowds of people gathered in huddles as friends would be, smiling and joking and laughing merrily amongst themselves, whilst she felt like an outsider in her own home. "I am less important when my sister decides to join these events." She gestured to the woman by the door, Andromaque had long waving dark hair and a glistening smile that seemed fitting for her pretty face, she was more audacious that Pascella ever dared to be.

"As I'm sure you will learn, many people here do not so freely like my company- I deem quite the disappointment." She shrugged off pulling her goblet to her lips, she did not care what these people thought of her but she was slightly miffed that this man did not hear of the whispers that went on about Pascella behind her back.

"May I have the pleasure of learning your name?" She asked, feeling rude since she had nothing to address the gentleman by.

Heavy Heart || Vaelerie & Pascella

Her sister-in-laws voice broke her quiet solitude and it took all of the strength Vaelerie possessed not to frown at the woman. Instead her pink lips curved into a thin smile and her head tilted to the side as Deston’s wife took the seat next to her, “Pascella.” Her greeting was curt and not at all one fitting for a Queen, yet decorum seemed to waver with Vaelerie when it came to this woman.

The default queen, she liked to refer to Pascella as, she had not meant to rule, she was not born to rule, her position should have been filled with her own sister Andromaque. It wasn’t that Vaelerie favored the other Beauroza over Pascella, but perhaps her brother would have lived up to her expectations had the wench not broken his heart. She supposed she did feel a little sorry for the woman, she had been labored with a difficult husband and she didn’t even have the love of any children to keep her mind from insanity- it had been rumored that the Queen was as baron as the Fervention wastelands- poor, poor woman.

Still, her sympathies only went so far and it was no doubt what in the near future Pascella would become a very difficult woman to deal with and they would have to deal with her eventually. Vaelerie was unsure to what extent the woman would react to after Deston’s abdication from the throne, she never truly understood Pascella’s motives.

"On the contrary, I am most happy," Vaelerie smiled, the lie easily rolling off her tongue, "it is a good match." A good alliance. Leaning forward in her chair she reached for the jug of wine placed in the middle of the table, pouring a generous amount in her chalice before settling back down. "In such unpredictable times you need all the good matches you can get."