Power

There's an obsidian diamond serpent hiding beneath the blood red roses

[sfcrca]

Joyful weddings | Bona & Louis

[sfcrca]

louis de valois:

“you would be surprised. has history not spoken of women ruling through their sons and daughters? husbands are… notoriously easy to dispatch, n’est-ce pas?”

his lips parted only slightly as he spoke, his attention fully focused on the milanese. there was no denying she was in possession of a brilliant mind which made it easy for louis to find himself immersed in the conversation. there was no need to tiptoe around the subject of marriage and its repercussions though lady bona surely had her reasons for holding it in such low esteem.

perhaps the unions she had borne witness to through the course of her life had proven to be unlucky. if so, it was a shame — she would make a magnificent wife, one day. headstrong and undoubtedly ambitious, her family would one day make a name for itself: completely removed and detached from the one her father had given her at birth. of this, the frenchman had no doubt and found the thought compelling enough to draw up a smile at it.

“men are usually not known to lead long lives. not even kings are exempt from this.”

such was the truth even if louis appeared particularly disinterested in this fact. he was neither soldier nor peasant, only a noble in service to the french and their illustrious court. his duty was for the well-being of the people and the good relations of his kingdom to others. beyond that, he had no illusions of his safety: if he did not make himself valuable, he was easy to dispose of. it was the same for women. did she realize this?

“i find your disposition quite refresing, lady bona,” he raised his goblet in a gesture of tribute before he emptied its content. this was quite enough wine for him to last him for the remainder of the evening if he wanted to continue his correspondence to the king by tonight. “however, i do disagree with one of your sentiments.“

his smile thinned out. “greatness comes not in the form of successfully concluded treaties or won battles: those are just means to an end, are they not? greatness is measured in what one leaves behind. your place in history is not defined exclusively by outside forces.”

A chuckle left her lips at the insinuation. Oh indeed, husbands were easy to rid of, if one wanted to dabble in poisons and other ways of... disposing a person. “Hm, indeed. But, hardly anything surprises me anymore.” No, it was difficult to truly surprise her - her father’s poisoning had been the last shock which truly got to her; everything else that might end up happening ( this pompous wedding included ) was hardly surprising, or shocking. She felt like the unexpected things were rarely unexpected at this point.

Snorting lightly in amusement, Bona arched her eyebrow in prince’s direction. “I think you may be mistaken. Men usually lead longer lives, unless they are killed in battle, assassinated, or the stress gets to them. Women are at a larger risk of dying - whether by being poisoned by their husbands to bring about another wife, or in childbirth, or due to general exhaustion. But, I found that the usual life span depends solely on a person’s will and strength of character.” She retorted.

Returning the gesture, and the petite smirk, Bona emptied her own glass, setting the goblet back on the table. His words made her arch an eyebrow in slight curiosity - she was quite intrigued to hear what is it that he disagreed with. She waited, patiently but briefly, for the Valois prince to enlighten her. Pursing her lips, she listened as he spoke of greatness and she found that she did not entirely disagree with him - but, she did not agree, either. “Are treaties not a legacy? Are they not something we leave behind? Battles, yes, they are influenced by outside forces, but they are not defined by them. Say, if I besiege someone, then I am the one influencing someone else, but if someone lays siege to Milan, then I am defined by someone else’s actions. Wars, battles and treaties are all the same in that manner - it is all a matter of perspective. And they are the only thing people mention when they speak of history. No one cares to know, or ask, about a ruler’s character - their greatness in derived from many things; wars won, treaties signed, but they also ask about trade routes and patronage to arts. Are they all not outside influences? It is always others who measure or deny our greatness.”

[sebastiaodebraganca]

@sfcrca​

He had been watching the woman for a few minutes now, and wasn’t certain if he was fascinated or horrified. She wielded a sword, and in his interest, he had let his own sword-arm fall slack to his side, weapon dangling and pointed to the ground. He had never seen a woman behave as such, and wasn’t certain what to make of it at all. He cleared his throat, sheathed his blade, and made his way over to her, placid smile on his face. “Did your husband teach you how to do that?” 

[sfcrca]

It has been a wonderful day so far - the birds were chirping, the sun was shining ( but not too brightly to vex her ), and she was in training with her long sword. But, then a man spoke and all her good mood seeped away with a murderous intent. She turned, sheathing her sword in a swift, precise movement, as her dark stare found the man who had so recklessly intruded on her. “Oi, what husband? Do I look like I have the patience to deal with a condescending man attempting to train me?” Bona all but yelled out, standing her ground, her brows furrowed as she gave the intruder a one-up. “I have had enough of that from my father. Must you insult me by assuming I have a husband to continue in his footsteps?”

[sfcrca]

lucia della rovere, friend:

Bona voiced Lucia’s exact intentions. She held her children closer than most mothers would, scarcely trusting their nurses to be alone with them. But what if she and Piero were not around to make those choices for them? Whoever it befell to, it would surely serve their needs better to have the Medici children grow weaker they aged. “What if Piero and I died?” she voiced, quietly. “Whoever would raise them after that would weaken them. Would corrupt them. I do not know which of my husband’s kin would take up the responsibility, but none would see them become what they were born to be.” She loved Luca and Livia more than life, but she could not deny that her plans had to be shifted to accommodate their safety, including what may happen if she failed. “We are fortunate to be able to depend on one another, Bona. I will never again find a friend like you.”

Something under Lucia’s skin hummed. She had kept this within her for so long, and now the realisation that perhaps Bona may be more aligned to those urges she hid within her left her crackling with a frantic energy, obvious despite the practised composure on her face. “I’m going to bring it to its knees, Bona. I don’t know when. It may not be until I am old and grey. But I swear to you now, I will do it.” They were fools to expect the silent obedience of Lucia Della Rovere. She had been wronged by them too many times, and was not a woman without resolve. Bona’s confession had her nodding her head. She could understand that, she supposed. Even though her own view was skewed, there was something in neutrality. “I suppose you must consider whether France would retake Milan,” she pointed out. “Though I must admit that I have been thinking that we have placed our bets in the wrong corner, so to speak.”

What if Lucia and Piero died? Yes, she knew that fear all too well. Truthfully speaking, when it came to her younger siblings, she found it that she was the only one who could truly care for them. Alessandro was a bastard son of a powerful duke, but Ippolita was legitimate daughter - many would seek to corrupt them, to manipulate them and use them, if Bona was not there to protect them and shield them. “Not everyone, Lucia. I would not see them weak or manipulated, and neither would Ippolita, nor Alessandro. Should anything happen to both of you, you have to know that both Livia and Luca would be safe and well cared for in Milan. I would care for them as if they were my own.” She promised, but added with a reassuring smile. “It is the nerves talking. Nothing will happen to you or to Piero.” Her smile softened further as Lucia spoke; “Neither will I. I am most fortunate to have you in my life.” She meant it - she would never do anything to jeopardise her relationship with lady della Rovere.

The fire in her friend’s expression and her voice, set her own soul ablaze with determination. They goals had aligned to perfection, it seemed. Bona had not really thought about taking down the Church head on - she always did things more... subtly. She would simply do everything her own way, without asking for permission or guidance from the holy men. But, now, with Lucia’s words, nay her promise, came a flood of emotions - of resentment towards those who dictated others’ lives as they saw fit. Well... not on her watch. “I want in.” Bona whispered, her dark gaze fixing upon her friend. “You need not do it alone. I will stand by you. Together, we can bring it down to ruin.” There were very few things Lucia and Bona could not do, when paired together. Church was not one of those impossible things. At the mention of France, the lady Sforza snorted; “Oh, they can try. We have already beaten them so many times. It would be foolish of them, and quite frankly embarrassing, to ask for more of it. Our army might not be as enviable as France’s, but our generals are extremely capable and savvy. They would be marching straight into slaughter.” She replied, then arched her eyebrow in question. “You think the winning side might lay with the opposing front? Their armies are... formidable, but do they have the nous to use them properly?”

[sfcrca]

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post count this week ( 17/05 - 23/05 ) : n. of replies ( 5 ) + n. of tasks ( 0 )

point gained : 5 points for 5 replies + 1 bonus points

point allocation : influence + 2 ( maxed ), luck + 4

health total : 114/150

[sfcrca]

Swords | Bona & Simeon

Location: the woods between the castles.

Castelgrande was too familiar now; it’s training grounds even more so. There was death in familiarity, a laziness of sorts that courses through the veins like poison. She already knew how the men in her father’s army fought and trained - the few unfamiliar people she sparred with were all far and wide in between ( the latest one was her sister - teaching Ippolita how to handle a sword had been the most entertaining and exciting thing she had done in a while ). She was looking for a change of scenery, at least, and the large patch of trees standing guard between the two opposing factions, seemed like the perfect spot for her to train; away from prying eyes and smirking men who thought she could not knock them on their asses with a single swing of her long-sword.

It could have been minutes, but it could have also been hours -- whenever she would train, the concept of time would simply evaporate from her mind. It was just Bona, steel and a thick patch of evergreen forest. Swing - twirl - jab; her movements were precise, decisive and well practiced ( after all, she had been serving in her father’s army ). The sword had grazed the trunk of the nearest tree as she swung at it, but it was not the collision of steel and wood that made her tense up, her muscles turning rigid, but the feeling of someone watching her. Sheathing the sword, Bona turned to face the dark man she noticed in her peripheral.

“It is a nice afternoon for a stroll, is it not?” Her voice was soft as she spoke, breaking the silence which seemed to have descended upon the woods. Still, despite the sudden... company, the lady Sforza did not find the man to be threatening - so far.

@oncebely​

[bastardparma]

@sfcrca​   

    “no, no !” sandro exclaimed, letting out the most pitiful of cries. his playing cards, which he had been meticulously stacking into an impressive tower, had just come tumbling down. the culprit ? guido, his beloved segugio italiano, who pounced upon the table in excitement after alessandro half-heartedly tried to shoo him away. with how big he was, alessandro was surprised he had not tipped over the table as well. apparently, it was now his playtime & how dare sandro overlook that !  did their hunting venture, not even an hour ago, truly not tire him out ? “look at what that brat did, bona !” the lord, who was still very much upset, called out to his sister. “it was nearly finished !” rising from his seat, sandro fell to the ground in a squat, letting out a loud sigh. still wallowing in self-pity, he tapped his fingers against the side of his head & tried to wish away the mess of cards he would eventually need to pick up. “one day of peace ; that is all i ask…”

[sfcrca]

Bona was hardly the domestic type - unless her siblings were involved. She was not the type to sit idly and sew or crochet ( though, she admired women who had the patience to stab something more times than she dared to count ), but she did enjoy a quiet afternoon in her siblings’ - or, in this case her brother’s - company, with a book in her lap. Sitting on a chair opposite of her younger sibling, the lady Sforza’s attention often skipped from Euripides’ Medeia to her brother - and the tower of cards he was attempting to make. A soft smile danced on her lips whenever she would glance at him, her dark gaze softening at the sight of her brother and his shenanigans, but when Guido’s clingy side of character awakened with a vengeance, she stifled a chuckle that threatened to escape her lips. Alas, the moment Alessandro cried out in help, her shoulders shook with the effort to keep the chuckle as quiet as possible. “I see. How inconsiderate of him.” Bona gently spoke, rising from the chair as she crossed the short distance to crouch beside her brother. “Given Guido’s character, that is a bit too much to ask.” She softly laughed, her hands resting against her brother’s shoulder, rubbing in a soothing manner. “Maybe we could send him to pester Ippolita for a while. How mad do you think she would get if he messed up her work?” She lightly snickered at the thought.

[sfcrca]

ippolita sforza, sister:

“I would yet…” her voice trailed away. Most would likely not object if their minor piece of music was a few days late and yet there were always those who were impatient and stubborn. Ippolita is half tempted to write nonsensical melodies if only to spite them, but alas, she cannot. “There are few musicians and many seeking music to listen to, it is a difficult job at times.”

“They claim to be chosen by the Lord and to serve Him,” her expression is vaguely reprimanding, “Who are we to go against their word?” Ippolita shrugged, a loose motion of the shoulders more a tick of habit than anything else. “The world is mostly theirs already: if the Pope told us that God demanded us all to walk backwards in the streets, many would obey.”

“He has better things to do than constantly worry about me,” Ippolita retorted, “And you do as well.” Bona’s answer makes her laugh a little: what state had they all disintegrated into that speaking with enemies at weddings was the best source of amusement to be found? “Oh, I imagine he’d be displeased, he did take back Milan from the French after all.” Still, perhaps there was something to be made of old enemies at least being able to converse.

Oh, she did not doubt that composing was a difficult job - creating music from nothing, from the mere thought and idea; something so... intangible as a symphony, a melody ( painting and sculpting was laughably easy in comparison to it ). “I know it is difficult, but you are also a lady of Milan, not just a composer. You must look after yourself and your health, Ippy. If they waited this long for you, they can wait a few more days.”

Snorting in amusement, Bona’s gaze softened at the sight of her sister. “We are people of sense, carissima. They are people claiming to be chosen by a higher power - and, correct me if I am mistaken - no one can actually talk to the primary source to neither contradict it nor to  vouch for it. Ergo, I find them all to be as human and faulty as we all are - thus, not at all as deserving of our worship in any way that endangers our health and basic nature.” She replied, shifting her posture into something more comfortable, crossing her legs. “Many would, but does that mean that we should, as well, carissima?” She retorted.

“Ippolita, you are our sister - nothing will be more important to either one of us than your welfare and your happiness. You can protest all you want, but it will never change.” She gently spoke, dark gaze warm as she regarded the youngest Sforza. “Indeed, he did. But, I must admit that the little prince is not as nearly as... distasteful as his older relatives and, dare I add, ancestors. If nothing else, at least he was a lively company.” She chuckled; “Have you met anyone interesting lately?”

[sfcrca]

Joyful weddings | Bona & Louis

[sfcrca]

louis de valois:

to see the world through the eyes of a daughter or mother was something that generally wasn’t considered much in a society dominated mostly by males. men bowing to the weaker sex was still largely an exception and, to most, went against nature itself. thus it opened up the question of how a woman could end up being a strong ruler when she was held hostage by her very own whims.

from that point of view, the female’s words weren’t quite as surprising as they ought’ve been though louis didn’t necessarily consider himself to be a defender of equality: after all, things suited him in the way they’d already been established so what was the point in stirring up trouble? it didn’t serve him so the thought was not worthwhile.

“a question for you, then: if you were able to choose, would you choose a husband or a son?” which was the lesser of two evils? a son, surely. though even then, there was no guarantee he’d value her counsel beyond a certain age: louis remembered the tale of an old french king who’d exiled his mother for her courtly intrigues. however, the milanese made a good point: italy was bound to the catholic church, if only because of their close proximity to the pope. anything else would be considered foolish and louis figured it was easily understood when so much of their culture and riches tied to the leniency of the holy seat. and yet, here stood a member of the sforza family whose disillusion with the reality did not seem willing to compromise on another one’s behalf.

she was indeed a strategist, for all intents and purposes.

louis regarded her keenly, before silently coming to the conclusion she would have done fine in the military as well: her gaze spoke of a patient, highly educated mind who relished at the idea of taking up challenges to expand her horizons. such brilliance was hardly seen and even less appreciated in the form of a female.

“ah, but does this not mean the greed of women is equal in power, if hidden by their sweet dispositions? i find where men might have a more forward approach to matters, women are not quite as passive as some of them would have us believe.” it was an observation, nothing else, though the conversation was proving to be interesting. if nothing else, at least lady bona proved to be a person who thankfully didn’t quite fit into the monotony of this castle.

Oh, now that was a good question. It was also a very pointless question; “I was not aware one could exist without the other.” Her reply came out dry, a corner of her lips quirking up in an ironic smile. Firsthand she knew how hard it was to have a bastard - her brother had been raised beside her and Ippolita, but she was not blind or deaf to the jabs the others had directed towards him; recognising bastards as legitimate heirs was also not a walk in the park - again, with her brother as an example of it. “If I must choose, then I would hope for a son. Children are easier to... deal with. Husbands tend to have the annoying idea of owning everything and everyone their eyes happen to glance upon. If children are raised properly, they will not have the urge to backstab their parents.” She replied with a purse of her lips; “But, it is hardly a choice I will have to make. If I do not marry, I will not have an offspring. Legitimising bastards is too much work and, frankly, no one else’s damn business.” Especially not the Church’s. “If I do marry, no one can guarantee I will have a son. Or that my husband will live long enough to attempt to thwart me, or lay claim to something that does not belong to him.” She shrugged. The only consistent thing about life was that it was uncertain.

Bona quietly laughed at his words. “When I said : the greed of Men, I meant mankind. Women are no less greedy, but we are far more subtle - and we certainly do not vouch for waging pointless wars just because this country or that kingdom mildly inconveniences us.” Amusement laced her words, as she took a sip of the wine. “People will always be greedy and in want for more power - it hardly depends on the sex.” She retorted, before finding herself adding; “But, while the greed of women might equal the man’s greed in power, it often lacks... well, a drive to do anything about it. Men rule the world, do they not? Marriage alliances and trade routes - they are all things which advance one’s greed, and it is seldom women who establish such connections. Those who do are rare and far in between.” Her dearest friend Lucia was one of them, and she liked to think that she, herself, might count in as one of the... more free ones, more scheming ones; especially now with Ludovico’s death.

[sfcrca]

Can you see any of your father in yourself?

When it came to Ludovico, it was probably the best not to think about him. Yet, the question intrigued her and it brought about a flood of feelings she was desperate to repress. But, reflecting upon them, upon herself, made her more aware of how different they were ( and also made her face the fact that her father was not a complete monster ). “Well... I see some of his traits in myself - but, I can also see them in Alessandro and Ippolita as well. He was the constant in our lives and, whether we like it or not, he did... shape us. Though, I am proud to say that I do not see too much of him in either of the three of us.” She shared his stubbornness and shared his love for Milan, horses and weaponry.

[sfcrca]

luciadellarovere·:

Lucia shook her head. To even speak of it was strange. Even with Bona, it felt like bearing a little too much of herself. “And your siblings are both grown and capable,” she pointed out. “My children are only babes in the cradle still. I fear for their future, if I am not there to see them safe. I fear for them growing up weak, and being corrupted by the influence of others. There is nobody I would trust to raise them as I would.” She had begun to babble and she knew it. She forced herself to stop talking, taking a moment to steady her breathing. She must seem like a madwoman. Losing control was never an option for her, and she wasn’t sure why she was unravelling so now. “Thank you,” she said, quietly, though privately, she thought that even Milan would not be safe. Not while Bona could be influenced by any De Medici. “I hope that is not a day we will ever see.” 

“I used to pray,” Lucia confessed. “My mother and father were pious folk. I was brought up to love God, and to respect the church.” There was a stab of sorrow, as she always felt when thinking of her father, a stab of hatred towards her mother, and a wave of resentment towards the religion that dictated their lives. “But then I opened my eyes. The church does not wish to save our souls. They seek control, nothing more, and they will not have it over me. Over us.” This, and this precisely, was why she trusted Bona. “I do not want Tuscany to fight the battles of Rome and Austria any longer. Piero is of like mind.” She did not mention that they planned to offer their allegiance to a different cause entirely. She wasn’t certain that would be taken half as well. 

Bona understood her friend - she knew exactly what she had meant. Yes, Ippolita and Alessandro are both grown and capable to take care of themselves, but that did not diminish her worry - in fact, it only furthered it. “They are your children, Lucia. They will never be weak or corrupted. But, you will worry even more about them once they are grown.” She knew from experience with her siblings. “Then do not trust anyone but yourself, not with them. They are most important to you - why should you trust others with what you hold most dear?” She retorted, nodding to her own words. She trusts no one around Sandro and Ippy - especially not after Ludovico’s death. Her nod deepened and she hummed in agreement. “I know. I wish for that day to never come, as well, but if it does, you know you can count on me. I will shield you from God himself if I have to, you know I will.”

Bona listened to her, attentively and with a knowing nod. “No, you are right. They want to keep us obedient and afraid, they want to hold power over our souls - but, the souls are our own; no one else has any power over it, but ourselves. Church and their men the least of all.” Lucia’s following words sparked a curiosity in Bona, a curiosity and agreement. To be fair, when it came to autonomy and this idiotic war between powerful empires, the eldest Sforza found herself not quite... caring about their conflict. The only thing she cared about, truly cared about, was Milan - Milan and her siblings. She would do just about anything to keep them all safe. “Since we are speaking honestly and plainly about this, there is something I must admit.” Bona started, briefly stretching over to refill their wine goblets, before setting back on her chair. “I am not awfully... invested in the conflict between the two empires. To be even more frank, I do not care about it. All I care about is Milan being safe and intact - and my siblings, as well.”

[sfcrca]

weekly tracker

post count this week ( 10/05 - 16/05 ) : n. of replies ( 4 ) + n. of tasks ( 0 )

point gained : 4 points for 4 replies + 0 bonus points

point allocation : influence + 4

health total : 108/150

[sfcrca]

ippolita sforza, sister:

“You are not interrupting,” Ippolita shook her head lightly, tip of her quill resting at the bottom of the page. “There is simply… Too much to do, it seems, and I am not quick enough my with my work.” Things have grown increasingly difficult to balance for her — there is a small mountain of commissions to go through and although she can finish most of them in a week or so, constantly having multiple separate melodies flowing in her mind, it is still a lot.

“My composition for the Easter mass pleased His Holiness,” her smile is thin and wan, “So I must now work rapidly to create more music. I am pleased to be recognized so, and yet the Church grows more insatiable by the day.” The rest of the words go unsaid — that she is tired of writing music for the mass and although there are a large variety of things she could do to make it more interesting, no one would likely accept these novel thoughts.

“I suppose I am merely tired,” eyes are bleary, faint slips of red at the corners, “And yet the physicians say I am straining myself even with how little work I do. Pray tell, do you have better news or stories of more interesting endeavours than mine?”

She was pleased to hear that her presence was welcome, rather than a nuisance. She had longed to spend time with her siblings, especially with her sister, since she had not caught sight of her since the wedding. “Take a break, Ippolita. A good respite every now and then will refresh you. You should not burn yourself out on your work like this. The commissioners can wait; if they cannot, then they should compose their own music themselves.” She gently spoke, her dark gaze soft as she regarded her sister.

Oh, of course. Only the Church and His Holiness could be this demanding. Her expression soured for a moment, her thoughts taking her back to the conversation she has had after Ludovico’s poisoning. Insatiable - now that was the most correct description of the clerics she had ever heard in her life. “They are like dogs. Unless you put a leash on them and rein them in, they will gobble up the world if they can.” Her words have been quiet, but darkness laced through the tone.

“Forget the commissions for a moment. You need to rest. If you will not listen to the physicians, then listen to me. And if you will not do that, either, then I am calling for Sandro - I am sure you will listen to him.” Bona said in a soft tone, before her sister’s question made her shrug. “I spoke with a Frenchman - nay, a Valois prince at the wedding. I suppose that was the most interesting thing that happened all week.” She snorted in amusement. “Father is surely pleased with it, from wherever his soul is looking from.” Hopefully oblivion.

[starfvllen-deactivated20210215]

with bona sforza @sfcrca , a secluded area of italian quarters in castelgrande castle .

The quill ceases making its path across paper, and Ippolita vaguely hums out the tune, pitches matching softly to the ones written down, melodies appearing in rapid succession, line after line after line, without pause and without hesitation. She has no idea why, but some innate knowledge tells her that this will sound good. (People tell her that what she writes sounds good constantly, and yet she finds more reason to doubt them than not.)

“Bona,” she acknowledges softly, looking up from the sheets of music. Seated here at the windowsill, the sun shines through warmly and offers a good source of light, secluded away from the bustle of it all. “You said there were some things you wanted to speak to me about?” Ippolita has her own list of concerns, one of which will likely be addressed, and the other likely to sit and decay slowly in her heart. “Pray it has nothing to do with the di Savoias, none of their men particularly tempt me towards marriage.”

[sfcrca]

The wedding was finally behind them. Despite it being a merry occasion, she was not awfully fond of such pompousness - especially not in times like these, but while she did not necessarily agree with it, she could understand why the Germans and the Ottomans pushed to have it so soon. What coaxed her to attend was mostly her brother - since he was in attendance, she followed, if only so that she could use it as an opportunity to hang out with him.

Her sister had been holed up in her chambers for a while now, and Bona had longed to have a conversation or two with the youngest Sforza. Dark gaze found her sister the minute she was admitted into her chambers, and with a soft smile on her face, Bon approached the windowsill, resting her hand against her sister’s shoulder as she planted a soft kiss atop her head. Quiet chuckle left her lips at Ippolita’s words, but it quickly changed into a snort. “Heavens, no. As if would have you marry anyone whom you did not choose.” Bona turned towards the table, pulling out a chair, until she was seated by the window, close to her youngest sibling. “I just wanted to see how you are doing, have a little chat. Am I interrupting you, Ippy? I see you are working.”

[sfcrca]

lucia della rovere, friend:

Lucia took a moment to study the cloth of her skirt. Her favourite colour, a  lavish violet, embroidered with a silvery thread. The finest money could buy, a symbol of her status in the world as a grand duchess. Would Giulio, with the entire might of the church behind him, see her lose that role? See she and Piero removed, as they plotted to do with the Pope, together, to place a more biddable sibling in his place? No. She would not allow that to happen. “Perhaps. Or perhaps he will use his new power to strike at me and my husband. That is not a risk I am certain I want to take.” The deal had been struck, but now Lucia wavered on her part of the bargain. “Can you promise me his loyalty now? To me, to Piero? All three of his siblings would see me in my grave, Bona. I just know it.” Her eyes widened, and for a brief moment, the mask of Lucia Della Rovere slipped. Her paranoia, her suspicion, her utter weariness at carrying around so much for so long, showed in her expression. But here was Bona. There were only two people on this earth she would trust with her entire heart, and Bona was one of them. She could allow her to see without worry. Bona would not hold her weakness against her.

“On that we can agree. It is love that binds us now.” She knew well enough that not all marriage bonds were strong ones. Her early years with Piero were a testament to that. It was her love for him that had, eventually, bound her to him fully, as she and Bona had been bound for years. She surveyed Bona carefully, but at her encouragement broke into a grin. “I know. But tell me, my friend, when was the last time God listened to your prayers? Has he ever? There is nothing waiting for us after this life. And yet we kill or die for men who claim to act as the mouthpiece for a diety that does not exist. Why should they be allowed to control us, to control our lands and families?”

She noticed the paranoia in her friend’s eyes and it sparked up the worry inside her again. She frowned, listening attentively to Lucia as she spoke, the expression turning grim - she did not expect for the de Medici family to be such a pack of blood hounds ( at least not towards family - and Lucia was their family, even if via marriage; and by providing them with a nephew and a niece ). “I understand that. I would be the same if I was in your place. I am the same - I will not be willing to take such risks if it can bring harm to my siblings.” She replied, her expression remained dark as she minutely pondered about her possibility of either Alessandro or Ippolita being harmed. Her hand reached across the table to grip her friend’s once more, tightly squeezing in both comfort and reassurance. “No. No, I cannot guarantee it. But, what I can guarantee is that Milan will stand by your side. I will stand by your side. If you ever find yourself in a need of a sanctuary, or anything, really, Milan’s door will be open to you. And if anyone wants to get to you, they will have to go through me, first.” She vowed - and she had meant every word of it. Lucia had always stood by her, from the moment they have met, and it was the least Bon could do to repay it.

Indeed, love bound them together - their friendship, their mutual respect bound them together, tighter than any flimsy marriage ever could. The grin on her friend’s face coaxed a matching expression on Bona’s own face. “I cannot say I have ever truly prayed to Him to begin with. Ippolita had always been the most religious one out of the three of us.” She replied, but her friend’s words resonated deep with her soul. Oh, how true her words are! “Indeed, why should men have all the power and all the glory? Why should men be the ones to make and write all the rules? Why should we conform to them? They fear powerful women and they would rather see us powerless and meek. Well, not on my watch. Not in Milan and not if I can help it.”

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Joyful weddings | Bona & Louis

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louis de valois:

regardless of the length of his stay in switzerland, the french prince still found himself delicately surprised each time he made the acquaintance of yet another italian. in fact, it always proved to be a surprise each time french words rolled of their tongues in an admirably unconcerned fashion. it spoke of their sensual nature, something not entirely foreign to the french folk. perhaps therein lay the explanation as to why these two nations simply could not do with or without one another.

known for their patronage of the arts and their love for life, they indeed shared more similarities than perhaps either countries were willing to admit to. the thought amused louis whose countenance openly contradicted the italian’s reticence as he let his eyes roam the female’s features patiently. french suited her nicely.

his smile widened into a grin, the hints of something wicked fluttering across his face before disappearing in the blink of an eye. the importance of the use of diplomacy in moments such as this one wasn’t lost on louis even though he relished in the thrill of letting vague traits of his own personality shimmer through. and who knew? perhaps the lady sforza even shared such and similar sentiments — time was sure to tell him as much. the man had an inkling there was more to her than just the unorthodox boldness.

the women gathered in switzerland were something. comme tout cela est intrigant.

“alas, you must look across the channel then. the english queen rules quite ruthlessly, i’m told.” it wasn’t so much a comment as it was a mere observation. france and england had a bloody history, oftentimes worsened by misunderstandings on each side and a large network of spies that frequently tipped off their respective allies at the faintest sight of a conflict on the horizons. a quirk of his brow and he was pulled from his thoughts once more as he eyed the female. “unless, you mean to insinuate a de-facto ruler sans spouse?”

in that case, she would be sorely disappointed. it was a rarity, practically unheard of, and although most noble women wielded some kind of power, it wasn’t always of political nature.

bringing the goblet of wine to his lips for a hearty sip, he let her words echo in his mind. the oldest daughter of the late duke ludovico who had not left a rightful heir, she was a keen observer. it would serve her well in the days to come, of that he had no doubt.

“lady bona, you seem quite the strategist.” the compliment flew from his lips with a practiced ease followed by a poignant glance as he set down the goblet on the table again. “one would almost assume you’ve some experience with the art of — “

his eyes sparkled mischievously as he met her eyes again, “ruling.”

“Yes, well the English have always been... special. They do not rely on the Pope to officiate their monarchs and they seem to lack the care for it, as well.” She admired that. She admired the way they removed themselves from the Church, forming one of their own, with its own rules and having their king, or queen, act as the supreme sovereign - they did not require for a Pope’s seal of approval to do things. Italians, unfortunately, relied too much upon the Church and the deeply corrupt men that governed it. There was no more holiness in their holy Church. She doubted it would ever change, even if her friend takes the Throne for himself, once the current Pope breathes in his last breath.

Nodding at the following, the lady Sforza replied. “Yes, that is exactly what I meant. It is difficult for a woman in this age to rule on her own, without having a horde of male well wishers, a husband and, preferably, a few sons to further the line, behind her - but, not too many sons, lest the brothers would fight among themselves for the throne - or the seat, in Milan’s case. The greed of Men never ceases to entertain me.” She muttered the latter with a soft sigh escaping her lips. People were greedy. Too power hungry; she had started to fall into the trap of it herself, but then her brother returned when their father was killed and she was finally free from Ludovico’s incessant manipulations and setting her and Alessandro against each other at every step.

Bona offered the prince a light grin, as he complimented her. She was not the type to boast, or inflate her own sense of value, but she was a damn good strategist - after all, how could she not be one? She had followed her father in battle many times. She did not miss the mischievous glint in his eyes and her lightly chuckled in response. “Perhaps not ruling per se, your highness, but I have quite the experience in battle. My father might have been... difficult in many things, but he had allowed me to train with weapons and he had allowed me to follow him into battle. My strategic way of thinking stems from it.” Her little brother was not too far behind when it came to strategies. The power was undoubtedly going to shift in the coming days - if everything goes according to her plans, Alessandro would prosper greatly from it - as would Ippolita. It is time for the old and entitled men in her father’s council to fall and retire, and for some fresh minds to rise; and who was better and more suited for it than her siblings? If she shows her good will towards Alessandro, perhaps he would no longer fight to have Milan all for himself.

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weekly tracker

post count this week ( 03/05 - 09/05 ) : n. of replies ( 4 ) + n. of tasks ( 0 )

point gained : 4 points for 4 replies + 0 bonus points

point allocation : influence + 4

health total : 104/150

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Liquored lips | Bona & Euphemia

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euphemia douglas, acquaintance:

it seemed almost indecent, to hold so many happy events when there was so much darkness hanging over the attendees, when they had lost family members and friends to assailants that were likely not entirely gone. so many who had traversed to switzerland under a banner of peace had died in manners that were not peaceful and it was of no surprise that sabers and swords often clung to the hips of men. and yet euphemia could not begrudge anyone their happiness, not when she knew how hard it was fought for on even the best of days. she still struggled with her own happiness, with joy from the little things, for even when they returned home she found it unlikely she’d be allowed so much time with patrick, unchecked. she took the wine but did not sip until lady sforza did. perhaps that was unkind, or perhaps too suspicious, but euphemia believed she was allowed at least that much after all she had been through.

a head inclined. “it seems few know who will inherit.” it was a question phrased as a statement and she wondered who the lady sforza would throw her support behind. the only eligible male heir was a bastard and, to her understanding, would be unable to take on the city even if he’d wanted to. “i wish you peace in your troubles with milan.” a dark veil passed over euphemia’s eyes and while she believed that the other woman meant her words, it was still a struggle for her to contain herself. “thank you,” she murmured, unable to say much more without losing her composure entirely. her lips were thin and the lines upon her face pulled tightly. “he was taken much too soon.” no parent should have to lose a child.

When it came to Milan, the situation was still... unsteady. Uncertain. She had teamed up with both Sandro and Ippolita, to keep their most beloved home safe and in their hands, but when it came to the question of which one of the Sforzas will be the ruling lord ( or lady )... they still did not know the answer to it. Bona had worked so hard to prove to her father that she is the right choice, but all of her efforts had been in vain while he was alive. The people supported her, but truthfully speaking, they would also support Alessandro or Ippolita - so long as it meant that Milan would stay under the Sforza rule. “It is an important question and an important decision to make, and right now our priority lies in unity, in making sure our fair duchy remains steadfast, prosperous and under our rule. Whether I inherit it, or Alessandro, or Ippolita... that will be answered when the situation is pacified and when Milan is truly safe.” She carefully replied, but she had ideas about it - ideas that could ( if executed properly ) prove most beneficial for their beloved home.

“Thank you, lady Douglas.” Bona’s expression softened again as she regarded the Scottish lady; she did not miss the darkened veil which passed through the other’s, usually composed, features - and she truly felt for the woman. Losing her father had been... difficult, and she did not even love the man ( she did not even like him, but he was her father still ); losing a child must be truly heartbreaking. She wondered how she would feel if something would to happen to Alessandro, or Ippolita and... the feeling that washed over her was most unpleasant - rage, mixed with sorrow unlike she had ever felt before - and she had merely pondered the idea of it. Bona quickly suppressed the thought and her gaze returned to the lady in front of her, a soft inclination of her head the only indicator of her agreement with lady Euphemia’s words. “Do you... have your suspicions about who might be behind all of it?” She carefully asked.