pulling

i do not miss childhood, but i miss the way i took pleasure in small things, even as greater things crumbled. i could not control the world i was in, could not walk away from things or people or moments that hurt, but i took joy in the things that made me happy. duchess regnant aveline delcroix of valois. penned by si.

[scrrcwed]

rvssianroulettcs‌:

it’s almost a dichotomy, aveline and marguerite. where one had been like events filled to the brim with champagne bubbles, the other was a tranquil afternoon of tea and books, but as it was, everyone soon got used to it. there was no room for one who wasn’t so adaptable in the french court with everything going on there. it was a surprise initially, of course, but matthieu had always expected surprises from marguerite and so, safe to say, it did not last very long. “how old is he now? about five or six? he should join our daughters for lessons sometimes, then. i think he shall fit right in.”

          the days of her childhood had forged the bond between herself and marguerite, days spent sprawled in the tall grass or playing chase while stumbling over white skirts with dirtied hems. she had been a free little thing, once, without shadowed eyes and dark gowns. “six, yes,” he has the same golden hair of aveline, warm and honey-colored, and the deep dark eyes of his father. she had not thought it possible to love someone as deeply as she had her husband, but gustav is truly the light of her life. “the queen has spoken of much the same,” her lips quirk into a hint of a smile, “it is a wonderful idea - one that i will take you up on. it would do them well, i think.”

[scrrcwed]

pcntheon‌:

she looks upon the duchess regnant and feels nothing but trepidation towards their little tea soiree ─ noèmie knows with vivid recollection that the duchess aveline has been particularly close with the madame d’atour and the entirety of france knows that their relationship, though outwardly respectful for the foreign dignitaries currently presiding in the palace, had been built on harsh rebukes and idle threats. she does not know just how much madame bardet has influenced the duchess of valois but noèmie has learned to keep herself closed off till proven otherwise. ( she has been burned too many times by girls who had betrayed her for a sack of coins or for the king’s momentary attention ─ she would not allow it to happen again. )

❝ it would do my girls some good as well, to be around other children … they have grown quite withdrawn from their mother, with the exception of the youngest, but i suppose it is to be expected with their age. ❞ she could not divulge such matronly concerns with anyone else, for no one understood or empathized enough with the foreign queen truly listen ─ it was a test of sorts, to see how the duchess would react. noèmie does not wait for a servant to pour the tea ; instead, she serves the duchess and herself with practiced ease, flowing through each step that has been taught to her by her mother for as much as the french liked to believe the ottomans to be uncouth, there were some refineries that had been similar in the upbringing of their women. the tea is light, a blend of black tea and some jasmine flowers ─ the only thing that can soothe her stomach which was why she also took it plainly, knowing milk and sugar could upset her into nausea. ❝ … we are most honoured to be able to host such a historical celebration in france. ❞ that was what a queen should say, though the strain of the workload shows around her eyes. ❝ there are always people about though now there are more unfamiliar faces to be cautious of. it is why i want the children together. it would ease my worries as well as the worries of the other mothers here. ❞ 

          aveline would not be surprised to hear of the distrust held towards her due to her affection towards marguerite. the woman is something of an exception for aveline’s friendships - both in that it is a friendship and that the other woman is so brazen. unlike her friend, though, aveline does not see the point in petty rivalry. the queen is not someone aveline has ever held conflict with and so she will not judge her based on the words of others. perhaps that is foolish of her, to not heed the worry others hold about the woman’s loyalties and where they might lie, but aveline suspects they are first and foremost with her children. it is the same for most mothers. where their children are, so are their hearts. so long as those children are in france surely their mother will remain as well.           “that is a difficult time, or so i have heard. gustav is still somewhat attached, though my mother has told me i withdrew quite quickly. i hope it will do him well, as well - i fear he grows lonely for the lack of children at home.” his only playmate is one of the few servant’s sons, a boy with freckle-spattered cheeks and dark hair that often plays tag with her son through the still halls. some might think it an odd pairing of friends, but it keeps the boy happy enough and occupied, so aveline could not bear to stop them. eyes follow the movements of the queen and slender hands accept the cup and saucer with a polite nod and a soft, “thank you, your highness,” in response. it is unusual that the queen did not call forth a servant to do it but aveline refrains from commenting, unsure of the finer points of the culture the queen was raised in. it would not do well to make comments on a topic she is so unfamiliar with. “we are honored to be here. it would put my mind at ease to have the children together. perhaps they will forge friendships our generation was never able to.”

[scrrcwed]

emperorholyalone‌:

He frowns slightly, but thoughtfully; it wasn’t something he had thought about consciously before, but he agreed. When he thought of his brother’s many portraits, and the memory he possessed of him, it did not feel like quite the same person. There was something too idealistic about the portraiture. It was what he was meant to represent, what someone else needed him to be, the image that he had needed to portray. It was strange, to realize all that was left was the aesthetic that had been needed, and nothing of his soul. “Yes, it seems near impossible to capture that in paint. I never have enjoyed sitting for portraits, they are too…manufactured,” he nods.

Humming in agreement with her words, he considers how to word the feelings. It sounds as if she agrees with him, but there’s always the danger of being too honest, too transparent. “Yes, I sought a moment of peace, without the worry,” he explains. “So many unfamiliar faces, with so many unknown intentions, it is tiresome, being on alert at every turn. But then, perhaps I should be more optimistic at the peace we’ve made.”

          what pesters aveline most about portraiture is the eyes. her dear friend marguerite has had several portraits painted of her lovely face, and while the tilt of the head and curl of the hair is oft a close enough resemblance to edge on uncanny there is always something so lifeless in the eyes. some lack of gleam or sparkle or light that lingers there, off and odd and dead. “i suppose that is what they are meant to be. manufactured. the ideal image of ourselves immortalized rather than the humanity and flaws.” her voice is distant and soft, floating away from them and their spot on the bench.           “optimism is difficult to muster,” aveline had never seen the use of pretty words and flowery vocabulary to mask a feeling or truth that is uglier than the world may like, “so many years of destruction cannot be erased with one summit, so much as i wish that were the truth.” fingers entwine in her lap, twisting and falling away from each other before coming back. a repetitive movement she cycles through over and over again.

[scrrcwed]

rvssianroulettcs‌:

“aveline,” he called out to her –– the name and the face were familiar to him yet the expression on her face was something he could not recognize anymore. it eerily matched the one he wore now on his face, and he never liked himself enough to be able to stand looking at anything that resembled himself (this was something that stayed permanent before and after the death of his brother). but she had been in his good graces for a while, he remembered still the way the lady marguerite would hold her hand into any room she walked in, and as his affection bloomed for her, its vine also traveled to the duchess of valois. “it’s good to have you here again, it’s been too long. have you settled yourself in? how’s your boy?” something everyone around him seemed to have been blessed with. | @scrrcwed

          she halts her steps at the sound of a familiar voice calling her first name, swiveling to face him and dipping into a curtsy. “your highness,” she replies in even tone, face set and calm. there was a time she saw him in different circumstance, trailing a giggling marguerite on rare visits to court with the more outgoing woman. their friendship is one others might see as odd and sometimes aveline wonders if the king thought of it as such. a lithe and bubbling spirit like margurite paired with the sober and quiet aveline is oft a sight to behold. “it is good to be here,” it is, truly. her home has grown quiet and stagnant as of late. “yes, i have. oh - gustav is well. he is excited to be around the other children.” she does catch how he says the word boy but does not respond to the odd tone. surely a sore point.

[scrrcwed]

emperorholyalone‌:

As she speaks, there are distinct memories recalled. Not only does he hear her own story––he recalls, now, just what her duchy is like, husband lost, son growing up without a father, holding onto the title for God only knew what reason, but perhaps for the good of her child, something he could understand––but he hears his own. Those days before his injury, the silence that prevailed, how home did not quite feel like such. Unnerving, indeed. He thanks the Lord every day that it had not remained so. He nodded silently, lost in thought for a moment.

If anything, Conrad appreciates her honesty, for he can tell it is such. Nothing malicious, just a frank sort of truth that he is unused to. “And that is no surprise. I find my likeness has not quite spread past our borders. It is a good thing, indeed, that I have found my way to Paris in body. Now there is no need for paintings and coins,” he says with a nod, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

          “i find portraits and coins rarely do their subject justice, besides,” she only has one portrait hanging in her home, all other pieces of art landscape and tapestry. it is of herself, and her husband, and their son when he was still but a babe in her arms. it does not look how she remembers him, his brow too tense, jaw too sharp, shoulders too broad. it is a man one might aspire to look like, but it is not her beloved there, spirit trapped under thick paint and canvas. “too often they focus on the aesthetic rather than the soul of the person they paint.” carmine lips and sapphire eyes might look lovely in the paint but it is so oft too far from reality to do anything other than unnerve aveline.           he had offered her the seat beside him so she takes it, smoothing dark skirt in her lap as she sits, head tilting to look over at him. “i take it you came out here to escape the,” she pauses to think on what to say, “joviality within?” the good humor some display within the walls seems saccharine and too put on to be truth. the outright contempt of others is just as sickening. aveline has heeded some of the sharp-tongued whispers aimed her way for her holding to the title given to her by marriage. a title her son will hold when he is no longer a boy with cheeks still round words impeded by the gap of his newly-missing front tooth. it is his, rightfully, but gustav is too young to do the people of valois well. “the company of so many is overwhelming, to be truthful.”

[scrrcwed]

emperorholyalone‌:

He hums in agreement with her words. The quiet is dangerous, he’s found; too much time to think and worry, feed the paranoia that has only grown in recent years, the ever lingering suspicions that had begun thirteen years ago with his brother’s murder. Perhaps that is why he surrounded himself with so many people so constantly. And no matter how much the bustle of enemies and allies alike under one roof burns the soul, somehow the silence is still worse. “Indeed. The silence says too much, at times,” Conrad nods.

It’s very possible, of course, that she speaks truth and is fully unaware of who he is by sight; she’s French, and not of Paris, it is possible she knew of him only in name. But that little part of him searching for a reason to suspect everything is not as it seems wonders if she’s trying to provoke him, to send the message that he is not so important as he thinks, especially now. For now, he tries to believe the former. “Have you?” he asks, voice full of amused skepticism. “Holy Roman Emperor Conrad of the House of Habsburg. The pleasure is certainly mine, duchess.”

          she has to wonder how people can stand the quiet. to her it brings only the image of silent halls where once laughter was housed - the silence of her bedroom at night that was once occupied with soft chatter between herself and her husband. now everything feels far too flat - empty and lifeless. “yes. the lack of sound is - unnerving.” at least in the gardens there is the sound of life around them, birds and wind and the quiet sound of murmurs drifting from the open windows.           there are so many people she’s known by name only for so long. being so suddenly inundated with faces has left her feeling somewhat muddled and unsure who is who. so many delicate looking women and strong-faced men to remember. “ah, yes, i realized when you spoke of yourself as emperor. i fear your face had not been known to me until very recently.” aveline admits in soft voice with that same subtle smile.

[wishfulromancing]

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emperorholyalone‌:

“No bother at all. That is the rub, though. I came seeking a moment of peace, of quiet, but now that I am here, I find myself at a loss. It seems silence does not suit me,” he says with the hint of a sigh. There are a great many people, he knows, that wish silence did suit him, but he has never been one for meeting expectations. 

She has a familiar face, and her accent is clear to his ears, but with so many introductions flitting by over the past few days, Conrad finds himself unable to draw up a name. A mistake he should not have been making, with so many important figures within the palace, and a peace to maintain, but one that he is not nearly as self conscious of as he might be. “You will have to forgive me for asking your name, I have never possessed the memory an emperor should. Duchess, yes? I can hear the melody in your voice.” 

          “i fear i am able to relate to such sentiments,” aveline replies, voice soft in the relative quiet of the gardens. valois is, in general, quiet. her life has become quiet, home empty other than herself, her son, and the staff. she had taken for granted the peace of silence until it settled in her own home like a great cat, prowling and ready to pounce at any given moment. not many know how much she does not like the quiet - they assume the opposite based on the solemn set of her mouth and her tendency towards pitching her voice low and steady - but she has never truly liked to be alone with no one to speak to. “it seems too often the quiet holds within it too much time for our minds to wander,” the edge of pink lips pulls upwards in the barest trace of a smile.           she ducks into a curtsy, practiced and steady, though far from the bowing and scraping some others may display. “duchess aveline of valois. i regret to say i had forgotten your name as well; one meets so many people in places like this that names begin to run together. i am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

[scrrcwed]

pcntheon‌:

what brief interactions noèmie had with the other were practiced niceties, invitations to weddings and court festivities amidst the war as it was her duty to lead the women while her husband and his brothers led the men. there had never been any reason for a friendship to grow between the two, for which woman wanted to place their cards with a foreign queen who hailed from the very country their husbands were fighting against ? for such thoughts, noèmie did not blame them, though with the war called to a truce, she hoped that the french women could learn to look more kindly upon her, for remaining faithful to their land. the duchess regnant of valois was one such woman she hoped to win over to her cause, for while quiet, the woman had never been unnecessarily rude to noèmie either.

❝ and your boy … has he been settled in ? ❞ no doubt plenty of people would speak against a woman ruling in the stead of her son till the boy came of age and the queen could only hope no one would be cruel to either mother or child for their misfortune. ❝ it is perhaps a bit unconventional, but i would not be opposed to young gustav taking his lessons with the princesses, if that is something that would interesting you. a few other noble women have decided it would be best to keep the children together with so many strangers walking through the halls. ❞ for obvious reasons, naturally, as most of those women had sons they wished to marry into the royal family and the queen had three daughters for the picking. ❝ it helps entertain the children, if nothing else. how do you take your tea, your grace ? ❞ 

          there are those who cry traitor at the queen, as though the woman had any say in where she was born. aveline does not see the point of such accusations. so far as she is aware, the queen has never turned against the french people, even with her family ties to the side that had spilled so much french blood. if anything it garners respect, to have to face those she was loyal to before her marriage so coldly. family is everything to aveline, and the queen has family she must name enemy by necessity of her position. it cannot be easy to live with such knowledge. having to make a choice between land of birth and land of her current life would surely tear aveline in two. so aveline does not join in with those hot words and dark looks cast at the queen. she sees no reason to - it is not as if she marched into battle and killed their men. it is not as though she asked for this war to begin and complicate all their lives.           “he has - he could not stop talking about how excited he was to return to paris on our trip here,” valois is close enough to the city that gustav and aveline had day tripped in, on rare occasion, and it seems the place had made some impact on the small boy. aveline considers the offer for only a moment before head bows in a mild nod, “i am sure he would appreciate the company of the other children, and it would do him well.” she agrees, looking to the tea. “oh, plain, thank you,” a beat passes as she considers her next words. aveline has never been gifted in conversation. “i do hope you and the princesses are doing well. it cannot be easy to have so many people about.” there is veiled meaning to the words - people who view the queen and her children as threats or unworthy of their station.

[thelast5tears]

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[scrrcwed]

sultananehir‌:

It had begun as an aimless walk meant to clear her head, but Nehir soon found her thoughts straying to her children. It was inevitable in these quiet moments. She’d just sent off a letter and it would be days before the response, and the stretch of time between correspondence was unbearable. Of course, France was no place for good muslim children, and there was no way Nehir could miss out on this trip. It was an evil that had to be done, but an evil nonetheless. 

When she turned the corner, hands idly brushing against the tall hedges, she found a boy. Small, ruddy cheeked, and only by himself for a moment before his mother motioned for him to come to her. 

“Do not apologize,” she smiled sadly. “Hello little one,” she said to the boy. “What is your name?” 

          gustav looks at her with wide, dark eyes that sparkle curiously - much like his father’s had - though his round-cheeked face peers up at his mother rather than speak. a slight nod of the head prompts his quick and cheerful voice, “gustav!” it’s far from a proper introduction, especially to one that aveline is guessing is of some status based on posture alone, but it is not so much of a slight to warrant a scolding. “i am duchess aveline of valois, and this is my son,” she offers in a more formal tone than that of her giggling child who has begun working to tug his small hand free of hers. “do not go far, mon petit bébé.” aveline warns in a soft voice before releasing his hand so he can head over to examine a leaf that has caught his attention. “i apologize, he does not have much focus yet,” there’s an indulgent laugh and smile hidden somewhere in serious set of her lips, “i cannot say i am not glad for it, though.” it means he does not truly ask about things she does not wish to speak about yet.           the boy runs back, leaf gripped between small fists and gap-toothed grin beaming wide. he holds it up to show aveline, who coos happily at him, before he moves towards the woman to show off his new discovery.

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emperorholyalone‌:

Wandering eyes and idle hands, too many people in one place who believed they were of true importance in the grand scheme of things. It made for potential, the good and the bad of it. For now, at least there was entertainment found in sussing out where each and every player stood now, after so long in conflict. Or perhaps it was something closer to paranoia. At the moment, it lead him to addressing the familiar feeling of eyes watching him as he sat in the gardens, a few of his personal guard beside him.

“You may sit, if you’d like. I don’t bite. Besides, I grow weary of company that does not like to speak back.” 

          the duchess has found solace in the gardens; their quiet tranquility and the general lack of people with prying eyes and words that are laced-through with double meanings she does not care to take the time to unravel. there is a certain bench she is partial to, one that is nestled well between hedges and flowering bushes, and aveline’s feet had carried her there without the thought that someone else might occupy the location. she had not been in paris long but the spot has never been taken before, so one might excuse her hesitance upon finding somebody there. a beat passes after his words as she ducks her head in mild response.           “so long as it would not be a bother,” face tilts up to look at him once more, “not many come to the gardens seeking conversation.”

[scrrcwed]

rcsettes‌:

NOBODY would had put marguerite and aveline together . golden haired marguerite and mahogany haired aveline . day and night . the sun and the moon . they’re worlds apart . they had no business being together – – or so they all thought . but put them together and they fit just right , like two pieces of puzzle made for each other . whenever those blue eyes set themselves on her , the young duchess scolded herself for not reaching out more often . why she let herself be whisked by the dazzle of court life , but that’s the kind of person she was , she chased after the fireworks because happiness was a FLEETING LITTLE THING and she ran towards them as fast as her feet could take them .  “  whenever i see you i am paralyzed with happiness .  ”  in her world , all that’s beautiful ( or CONSIDERED as so ) was all temporal . the king’s affection , the status she now holds , the state of peace of her marriage . in aveline , beauty was eternal . marguerite found herself seeking escape in the woman who she spent her white girlhood together with .  “  i am not !! and i shall always make time for you , ma cherie .  ” her fingers still holding aveline’s . perhaps a habit , but she didn’t let go until she moved to pour some tea for her friend .  “  what brings you here ?  ” the duchess of valois would never abandon the tranquility of her own home for the more glamourous life in court . she knew .

          fingers remain entwined with marguerite’s until the other woman pulls her hand away, as though if she kept holding her hand like they did as children those carefree and summer-lit days would return to them. as though sunlit grass will warm her barefeet again, hair loose about her shoulders, giggles falling freely from her lips as she chases marguerite in a game of tag. aveline lets her hands fold gently in her lap once her friend moves away to pour tea for them. in some cases she would offer the way she prefers ( no sugar ), but marguerite already knows. there is something lovely about being around somebody who knows you so well, so inside and out. when marguerite is around aveline oft wonders if she’s the only one to know what lies behind the gauze and glamour of her form. she has a lovely exterior, but there is more to her than her pale hair and rose-bud lips. “i shall always take time for you, too,” she replies with a soft-edged smile, “hopes for this peace to be lasting, i suppose. i would not - i would not see gustav march off to war like his father.” the smile takes on a grim sort of resolve. “and yourself? though i suppose you may have already been here.”

[scrrcwed]

          a smile on aveline’s wan face has always been a rarity, even moreso in the past years; what is not rare is for those unusual smiles to be directed at her son. “gustav,  mon petit chou, where are you?” a peal of giggles draws her attention across the gardens. she is caught in a game of hide-and-seek with the six year old, a game he is quite adept at, it would seem. light footsteps carry her towards her son’s hiding spot, turning the corner with eyes alight with merriment - only for it to drop to something more somber upon realizing her sons hiding place has also been discovered by a woman she does not recognize.           “my apologies, i do hope we did not disturb you,” she motions for gustav to come to her, which he does. small fingers wrap around hers even as the young boy eyes the stranger with merry curiosity which stands in stark relief of the unsure solemnity of his mother’s gaze. @sultananehir

[scrrcwed]

          i’m awful at coming up with open starters, so please like this for an individualized starter! we don’t have to have plotted, but if you want to, feel free to swing by my ims!

[agryppina-cinema]

[scrrcwed]

rcsettes‌:

aveline ! if her name made her heart sprang up , then her presence made her leapt in joy as she threw herself off the chaise . not minding the way the silk robe slipped off her shoulder , marguerite hugged her friend . sweet aveline who had known her since they were little girls , bright eyed looking at the sky , who lost everything just recently . frowns rarely took over her face , but it did as he held her friend closer .  “  ma cherie , i’m so sorry for your loss – – and you are ALWAYS a better company than my husband .  ”  came a little laugh that accompanied her rich voice . marguerite broke off the embrace , her hand holding aveline’s like they were still the innocent girls they had been aeons ago , and guided her into the room .  “  i’m sorry i haven’t been keeping in touch as often as i should .  ”

          a soft sigh slips past her lips, relieved to see her friend once more. too often has the sudden silence from others meant something horrible - a lack of letters has seemingly become a calling card of the reaper. aveline is glad her dear friend is here, is well, is safe. “thank you,” her voice is a quiet, thin thing beside the sound of marguerite’s, though her words to lure a soft laugh from aveline. fingers hold tightly to those of her friend and she allows herself to be lead into the room proper. “i’m sure you’re very busy,” aveline is not half the socialite marguerite is; though she does make varying appearances at court, they are often short-lived and subdued, spent talking quietly at the outskirts rather than becoming the center of attention. she cannot fault her friend for leading a busy life.