[crownshqsinspo]

virusinfected-memes​:

THREE (3) CHOICES ;

Send an emoji below + three (3) different characters / muses that my muse must pick from! Some choices are considered ns / fw.

💍 - fuck, marry, kill. we already did this one but w/e  💋 - hug, cuddle, kiss. 💫 - fight, tickle, insult. 🦋 - befriend, adopt, ignore. 🥊 - pinch, slap, punch. ✨ - summon, banish, absorb. 🗳️ - vote for, vote against, run against. ☕ - get coffee with, go out to dinner with, steal their food. 💰 - rob a bank with, hide a body with, rat out to the cops. 🚦 - be stuck in an elevator with, be stuck in traffic with, be stuck in the apocalypse with. 🎉 - hang out with, party with, ghost. 🍪 - make cookies for, make a five-course meal for, burn all their food. 🔪 - protect, attack, fight side-by-side with. 💬 - SEND IN YOUR OWN THREE OPTIONS NOT LISTED ABOVE!

[shroudedson]

Antoinette Doria ~ Princess of Sardinia

Rudolf Slava Rurik - Crown Prince of Russia

[leememes]

(MOSTLY)   ANGSTY   DRABBLE   PROMPTS    |    QUOTES   FROM   PINTEREST  .

“   i   don’t   want   us   to   be   strangers   again  .   ” “   i   am   a   horrible   person  and   i   don’t   know   how   to   change ,   not   even   for   you  .   ” “  if   i   hurt   you ,   it’s   not   my   fault  .   i   warned   you  .   ” “   i   want   to   forget   everything   about   you ,   so   i   can   get   to   know   you   all   over   again  .   ” “   it   was   nice   to   hear   your   voice   again  .   ” “   please   don’t   forget   me   and   all   the   things   we   did  .   ” “   maybe   someday   we   will   be   two   people   meeting   again   for   the   first   time  .   ” “   nothing   makes   me   happier   and   nothing   makes   me   sadder   than   you  .   ” “   i   am   so   tired   of   their   stories  .   let’s   write   our   own  .   ” “   sorry   i’m   so   hard   to   deal   with   sometimes  .   ” “   i   like   it   when   you   smile  .   ” “   i   hope   you   understand   how   much   our   little   talks   mean   to   me  .   ” “   you’re   beginning   to   feel   less   like   a   friend   and   more   like   home  .   ” “   how   can   i   tell   you   the   truth   when   i   don’t   know   which   version   you   want   to   hear  ?   ” “   if   i   don’t   leave   now ,   i   will   never   get   away  .   ” “   i   broke   my   own   heart   before   you   could   do   it   for   me  .   ” “   in   loving   me,  you   hold   a   knife   at   my   throat.   in   loving   you,  i   tell   you   exactly   where   to   cut.   ” “   i’d   never   lie   to   you  .   ” “   it’s   not   an   easy   thing   to   admit   when   you’re   wrong ,   and   that’s   why   i   won’t   do   it  .   ” “   please   don’t   leave   me   alone   again  .   ” “   the   horror   you   have   seen   is   not   who   you   are  .   ” “   why   do   good   intentions   always   turn   out   bad  ?   ”

[shroudedson]

Antoinette Doria ~ Princess of Sardinia

[persephonememes]

𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐂 /  𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒.

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠.

❛ Sometimes you don’t get another chance, you know,  to-to fix the mistake. ❜

❛ I moved the earth and the water for you. ❜

❛ I can’t help but love you. ❜

❛ Oh my God, we’re going to do this again, aren’t we? ❜

❛ I’ll never forget the first time I saw your face. ❜

❛ You’re pregnant? ❜

❛ I love you. ❜

❛ There is always risk. At least when you love someone it’s worth taking. ❜

❛ I find more peace with you. ❜

❛ You are so beautiful, it hurts sometimes. ❜

❛ I didn’t want you to fight alone. ❜

❛ Why are you telling me this? ❜

❛ I love you, thorns and all. ❜

❛ You promise? ❜

❛ I want her to be happy. It’s worth sacrificing myself. ❜

❛ I believe in you and as long as we’re together I know that’s nothing we can’t do. ❜

❛ I hope to see you again sometime soon. ❜

❛ Can you just stay through the night? ❜

❛ I will be here with you. ❜

❛ I’m always gonna love you. ❜

❛ Would you ask me out for dinner, already? ❜

❛ How’s forever? Does forever work for you? ❜

❛ Whatever you choose, you’ve got my support. ❜

❛ It’s okay, I can be alone with you here. ❜

❛ I know I love you. I know that you love me. ❜

❛ I stayed up to talk to you. ❜

❛ Never far from you, my love. ❜

❛ I love you. Now save me. ❜

❛ You were worth the wait, and I don’t just mean tonight. ❜

❛ It’s always been you. ❜

❛ We can have any future you want. ❜

❛ Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while. ❜

❛ You make me want to be a better man. ❜

❛ Would you just stay with me? ❜

❛ I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and the thing is, I love you. ❜

❛ Most of my life I felt alone, even when I was with people. That was until I met you. ❜

❛ We’ll always have Paris. ❜

❛ Don’t you see? Don’t you understand? You’re the love of my life. I can’t leave you. ❜

❛ I’ve been in love with you for, ever. ❜

❛ Do not die. Do you understand? I can’t live without you. ❜

❛ I’ve always been in love with you. ❜

❛ I love you, and I’m not going to stop loving you. ❜

❛ I love everything about you. Even the things I don’t like, I love. ❜

❛ I’m not going anywhere. ❜

❛ My world is a better place with you in it. ❜

❛ I fell in love with you, smartass, because you were one of us. ❜

❛ If you were going to die, I was going to die with you. ❜

❛ I am broken and healing, but every piece of my heart belong to you. ❜

❛ You are my salvation. ❜

❛ She’s mine. And if any of you lay a hand on her, you lose that hand. And then lose your head. ❜

[shroudedson]

Antoinette Doria ~ Princess of Sardinia

[phcenixempress]

closed starter for @shroudedson​ (Rudolf Rurik) location: château de Fontainebleau

She’d expected to meet kings and queens with only a day apart from one another. Alas, the west couldn’t keep up with Jingfei’s constant ambition and determination to meet all possible allies. The next on her list had been Russia. The crown prince, to be exact, the possible next generation to aid her son in his quest to become emperor one day. Given their size and power Jingfei had no doubt about Russia’s increasing popularity and influence on the world’s chessboard. If anything she had to be careful not to anger or underestimate them. Imperial China, the Ming dynasty, didn’t matter too much in a world where their influence wasn’t as touchable. 

“Tell me, crown prince,” the empress began with a slight smile on her lips, “What are your ambitions?” she walked next to him throughout the nearby forest, a whole army, or so it seemed, following them from either court, “you’re tall, handsome, surely intelligent and strong. There must be much to gain at such a young age, much to desire.”

[shroudedson]

⚔

———— China was a country by which had gained some portion of his undivided attention, though seemingly a small feat, it was grander to capture him in such a way. Rudolf, who spent the bulk of his time killing those who dared threaten their borders, was not oft inclined to participate in politics. Though, as the desire to defeat his brother grew, to turn the rule which the Russian people did not admire into his own that he expected to be received better, he realized he must partake in parlay between international powers. The East was of particular interest to him, an untapped area that Ivan seemed determined to ignore for the better half of his rule, but Rudolf had been picking at the seams of their composure, bidding them to request his presence. To his great surprise, he had earned the eye of the Empress herself, something his brother had not even been able to accomplish - a large feather in the cap of the second son. How he could not wait to rub this into Ivan's visage, to dance on the grave of his ambitions to be the first to impress China.

The day which the Empress chose for their gathering was mild, the sun peeking through the clouds to melt the dusting of French snow that still resided beneath his boots. He brought his best men along with him, a show of power and might in the face of one who respected these things. Rudolf was no fool to why he was chosen above his brother, the Chinese must have heard tales of his accomplishments and been colored so impressed they assumed he was a more formidable ally to possess. Her frame entered his vision far before his did hers, the ornate clothes she wore conflicting with the plainer clothes he donned that morning - though he did not feel any less grand than her, his features filling any gaps in presentation. The way his red curls shone in the light paired with his tall stature projected all the importance necessary.

When she stood directly before him, he bowed and presented her a proper kiss upon the pallid skin of her hand, rising once more but allowing his eyes to linger on hers for a moment when he passed her height. There was no doubt she was as beautiful as was rumored so. With her ebony hair secured tightly and her lips providing a contrast that made her seem as though she was a painting that came to life. They walked beside each other then, equals in the minds of onlookers, their brigade nothing more than a performance for the French to gawk at. "I desire the preservation of Russia..." He began smoothly, tilting his head so that he might gaze upon her visage. "... and for Russia and China to form an alliance which brings pleasure to both sides... But I find myself far more interested in what it is you desire, Empress, to have bypassed my brother in favor of my company."

[shroudedson]

katrinkc​:

Cleanse with rosewater, adorn in gilded trinkets, swaddle in latest over-gown, furs, only for Katherine to venture to one who never minded presentation. Careful to be discreet with her venture, she insisted to spare time for such a reunion, allowing daylight to tease their corner of the world before she was alert, awake, restless to train. Despite occasional clumsiness she couldn’t shake, Katherine knew how to tread nearly undetected against scant snow, ice: soft-footed, with gentle padded paws until the target was within range, ready for her to lash, grip, claw, ruin. He taught her so… and though French spring aged, wrinkled and died against the ground, she could wet her lips here, inhale a sting of morning air, peer across the land to catch the outline of her brother- his copper curls like embers that blind her when the early sun crowns behind him- and she was transported to wild forests beyond Moscow. When Katrinka could barely grow up to Rudolf’s waist, struggling to hold up her bow and arrow in the frost whilst he curled over a shoulder, their mother’s steadfast glare inherited in shared gazes tracking prey. Never look away until the deed is done. 

How long had it been since she saw such a face? A question stuck on the tip of her tongue throughout her life. Rudolf was nearly eleven when Katrinka came into the world, shifted battle hero at only fourteen, fluttered in and out of her own mundane existence like a seastorm that she envied- until she couldn’t differentiate him from Achilles, Odysseus or Beowulf in her early years. Fawn-eyed, she marvelled at tales of his triumphs, tripped over her feet chasing after him, shifted green over his fate, and how she could never truly share his accomplishments. How she swore she saw him catch stormwinds, suspend mid flight a split second, then evaporate into thin air with an echoing crack. She hated him for it. How the wind and sky would swallow him whole and leave her behind to contemplate the limitless mystery of wherever he ended up. Juvenile jealousy died as expectations cemented, and calmed into love fostered through memories such as this. Chasing adrenaline, learning tactic. Pulling him in for an embrace, her laugh ragged from the chill in the air and evaporating sleepy haze against his chest, Katherine mused, “You’ve thought of me, Rud? What part? The little sap crying, insisting you comfort clumsy wounds? Have I aged you before your wonderful new daughter has the chance to? Wait- I spy a grey hair!” She teased, nearly plucking a red curl out from his scalp to present him like a flower, stifling another chuckle as he released her.  

 She eyed him a beat, hardened smirk fading as his words sank in, rang true. She reached forward, hesitant to divulge in a spar and allow her doubts to fall forth and reveal themselves with each step, grabbing the intricately detailed blade, allowing a curt nod as she swiped it once, twice, through the air. “I warn you, it’s been a while… I don’t want to end up breaking your skin with a foolish mistake.” Swaying slightly, before stepping forward as they’d practiced so often before, a huff of a sigh escaping her as blade cut through the air with more conviction. “How is fatherhood, life with your budding family? Are you finding happiness in it all? Are you allowing the world to stop a moment, to enjoy it?” 

⚔

———— As she pulled back from their embrace, the Rurik fire was evident in her chocolate eyes, something he took joy in noting as he had been concerned England would shift her so drastically she would forget where she was from. There were hardships she was meant to face which he would never comprehend, just as she could not understand the weight he carried upon sunken shoulders each day he woke up - nor would she experience the terrors that haunted his every sleeping hour, the ghosts that followed him everywhere with no place he could run to - for he was trapped within himself, in his sins, and he wanted nothing more than to shield her from such things. Katrinka would be required to don the English crown when the time presented itself, a feat that would erode what shell she had left if she did not care to build her defenses. Being a ruler was nothing short of all-consuming, whittling away the strengths of even the most notable men - the women bearing the brunt force of whatever agony chose to arrive. They were the ones who held true hardiness, though often considered the weaker gender, their tasks seemed insurmountable in comparison to those of men. Yes, the males of society murdered, pillaged, and held control over the bodies of others - but she, amongst the other females, had to relinquish their power to their husbands. They had to live beneath their thumbs, follow their every order, and take the force of their fury. Many women had attempted to escape this, to rid themselves of the oppressive force, but only succeeded in yielding what lay atop their neck.

"I think of you, yes, why should I not worry of my sister who now must parlay with the English." He began as he shook his head at the hair which rested between her delicate fingers. "I will not grey and that is just blonde hair... I am not old! How dare you speak of me in such a way." He started as a laugh overtook his broad shoulders. If she were the picture of the perfect Russian woman, he was her foil, the two royals who bore the name of 'the pride of Russia'. Slaves in very different ways to a country that may readily kill them if it meant they would gain something. Should they be hailed as so, or should their other siblings? They were mere humans who walked the ground just the same as those they ruled, ate the meals prepared by lower hands, and collected the coin which was necessary for their survival. If anything was to be named the pride of Russia, their common people should be called so.

"If you believe a man fears a break of skin, perhaps your husband is weaker than I had thought..." It was a jest aimed at the English prince, one he assumed would only bring her laughter. Marriage was a difficult journey for their kind which often did not breed love and understanding. They were meant to get on well with their spouses, but only so far as to produce heirs to inherit a chair which society had assigned more meaning to than he thought proper. He, as many in their ranks, yearned for the desire and love that could be acquired by those without station. Though he could not warrant leaving for those things, as his life did not seem so dreary that he would give up everything he had been born to.

 "I find it difficult to stare at my daughter, her beauty is so blinding... I believe I have become so accustomed to taking life, that nurturing one is an affair that seems too outlandish to me." This was something he would not readily admit to another who crossed his path, Katrinka being one who could see past his defenses even if he attempted to tell a lie or fill the air with talk of a more flowery nature. "I have spent most my time beside her, perhaps I can be a more well-suited father than ours was." As these words finished, he stood straight, towering over his younger sister. He raised his dagger in defense, perched as a wolf ready to pounce but with the patience and steadiness of a hawk. "Come now, show me that England has not stolen all of Russia from you."

[shroudedson]

⚔ II Closed for: @3v3linarose​ II Mischief Managed 

———— Evelina. The sister which gave rise to the most pity in his breast for the way she grew as a child. She was a hated thing, their mother scoffing at every attempt the girl made to receive her affections. His understanding of the extent of the distance which separated these members of his family often eluded him - having always been traveling, he found difficultly in painting the vast disdain between the two - though he had some inkling of to the nature of her treatment. He had always believed that his mother had wished to finish her childbearing years with another son, only to be disappointed when Evelina came to be. Besides her gender, she was also the one who willingly let fire leave her tongue to rage through the halls - a spoiled child if nothing else, she had been neglected to the point of rot. But she was his sister all the same and he had to arrange for their meeting, as he would any other in their family, as he did not wish for her to feel that he, too, was neglecting to make her a matter of import. Whether he preferred it or not, once he rid the world of Ivan, her support was necessary. She seemed the only one who might willingly shift sides.

The hall which they were to meet at seemed grandiose to him, filled with paintings from around the world as though the French loved nothing more than to boast wealth. His thoughts had been littered with intense scrutiny towards this court, this place filled with women who held loose morals and men who were bred even worse. There were many international elites in attendance, yet they all seemed to pale in comparison to the Russian court. If these men were to properly fight his brothers, him, or any of their generals; they would drop to their knees in defeat sooner than anyone he had ever seen. They should consider themselves to be lucky, having been born on the other side of the continent. He mused, his fingers making trails along with the ornate dining cloth they had presented him with. He could commend that at least and that of the food they provided as well.

Servants were scattered around him, their eyes boring holes in his frame as he awaited his sister far past the agreed time - which was usual of her, so he held himself responsible for not requesting her arrival earlier to push her to the time he really desired. Yet it made no matter to him as there was little to do in this country besides to lounge around and stuff one's face, which seemed to account for the round-bodied lords he had seen attending the festivities the night prior. He heard steps as the youngest servant girl placed his meal before him, oceanic eyes raised to greet her countenance. "Sister, I am surprised you have decided to arrive... It seemed you would never come." He began, teasing her much as he would any of their other siblings. "Tell me, what was it that required your attention for this period?"

Before she could give him an answer, he shifted in his seat and leaned forward. "Or shall we skip the pleasantries and speak of what we truly wish to? Matters that would cause the dismissal of these servants?" He stared up at her, mischief resting in his pupils as he heard the uncomfortable movement beyond their circle of attention. Rudolf was not one to beat around the bush, especially in the presence of such a person, as he was aware of her true intent at all times. Her spoiled nature caused many to underestimate her, but he knew she harbored information of import - often carrying more secrets than even his spies. "What have you learned in my absence, sit, tell me." He finished as his hand motioned towards the seat nearest him.

[shroudedson]

⚔ II Closed for: @adalsindaofanjou​ II A Lover’s Leap

———— Slowly, emotions beneath the surface of skin began to rise with each footstep that carried him towards his greatest sin - the one piece of the puzzle he had acquired which colored him insane. Why should he have access to his brother's wife, to feel her skin on his and dance alone in the night? It was of a small victory, to have stolen the other's greatest prize. A statuesque French woman with features crafted carefully by the hands of God, so much so that her likeness could be painted a thousand times over and it would never capture the light that coated her visage such as veneer. She was the picture of modern loveliness mixed with all the niceties of the west - a triumph of their age, one who should have been admired but had been cast aside by his brother to pursue those closer to home long ago.

They had started their affair years prior, the innocence which had fueled their lust long dissipated, now what rested between them seemed something mirroring passion. He had been her source of comfort, a friend in a foreign land that did not readily accept her - the warmth during the cold nights of Russian winter. A bond had formed between them that threatened dangerous outcomes, his frame being pulled to her on occasions where loneliness had sunk in. How long it had been since he last felt the delicacy of her skin, he did not know, he was only aware that such luxuries must be halted. He had wed Eudoxia a few years past now, the letters which once carried Adalsinda's name now bore hers - his flowery language saved for the woman who was now his wife. It was painful at first to relinquish the sole person who had chosen him before his brother, but there were too many risks involved with their relations as he began plotting the downfall of their Tsar. Should they be caught together, many unsavory subjects would likely be explored, risking the overturning of Ivan's ignorance - stunting the growth of the seeds he had already planted.

In the months he was absent, he did not write her at all nor did he send word of his arrival. Rudolf thought it most fitting that she also rest in ignorance so that her mind would remain clear in the presence of her family. There need not be guilt at the tip of her tongue, or she may divulge their secrets to undeserving ears which would spread the rumors much like wildfire. This was another thing he could not stand to have if there was to be a success to his plots - which would likely come many years later, but it was imperative he keep a low profile in the meantime.

As his frame reached just beyond her door, his emotions rose to a crescendo. Was he truly aiming to drive away the one person who got so near to breaking down the walls he wore like panoply around his heart? Could he justify their separation if it meant his access to the throne years ahead? He was suddenly unsure of himself, feet willing him to turn away from his meeting with her - to go back from which he came, to seat himself beside the devil and reside there forever and beyond. He knew he was not good at things of this nature, much better at taking life than creating one of his own. Yet he was steadfast in his decision and raised his hand to present a knock at her chamber doors.

[katrinkc]

KATHERINE RURIK

[shroudedson]

Points this week: 65 Total: 65  Breakdown:

Replies: 10 Starter replies: 45 Ask memes: 10

[shroudedson]

Asked by : @ivanrurik​ II  8. If they could name the worst moment of their life, what would it be? Did this change them as a person or change how they perceived the world, themselves, and others?

———— Since Rudolf spent most of his youth among military generals, he developed a very close relationship to one of the top performers, who he could often be found training with. The man became more of a father to him than his biological parent, always offering advice and wisdom to the young man. Rudolf attributes a lot of his development to this man and holds him responsible for the strength and ability that he has now.

When he was in his twenties and at the battle, he was made witness to this man's death. He was devastated at such a loss, seeing the man as more of a family than his own. There were very few people who attended the funeral that Rudolf arranged, even his brother seemed not to care about the loss he had experienced. With this death, he started to believe that there was this habit that rulers got into of sending their citizens to death without a second thought. He began to realize he, himself, was just as expendable as the rest of the men around him. Titles mattered less and less to him as time went on and he started treating people with equality, even if he was not meant to. This served him in getting the Russian people to love him, but he still feels he is lacking in many ways in terms of connecting with their citizens.

The death of his 'father' still haunts him to this day and he misses the general terribly, but he has not admitted this to anyone for fear they will find him weak. This event also contributed to the development of disdain towards his brother, as he feels Ivan is pursuing power in spite of his family and citizens.

[shroudedson]

Asked by : @adalsindaofanjou​ && @ofshiraz​ II  10. What was the hardest lesson they had to learn as they got older?

———— I think that as Rudolf grew, he began to learn that even if society expected members of your family/certain people to love you, that did not mean that they would. Though close to his mother, he was quite distant from his father. His father saw him more as a boy to be molded into a war dog so that he could support his brother in his reign. He was often pawned off to the military generals instead of being cared for by his family. He is not sure where he fits in with them and struggles with his relationship to them. Though he loves them, he knows they would choose Ivan over him 1000 times over.

He also struggles with not being desired by his wife. He is aware that most marriages in their time are made out of necessity and not love - but having been pushed to the side his entire life, he merely wants his wife to put him first. Of course, he has no knowledge of her affair with his brother, but this would devastate him beyond words. He would yet again be second best to Ivan, something that gnaws at him without end.

[shroudedson]

tscsarevna​:

A marriage made  to secure the wealth of House Glinski was a marriage kept to public occurrence and perhaps, was made on the battlefield where the Crown Prince took the many, unsuspecting lives. She had not married the Tsar as planned, but instead the Wolf of Russia — the younger brother, the one most loved by the people and yet… Eudoxia’s eyes still straight atop the golden helm. And yet, she did not despise her husband, she did not look away only for his discomfort. For she respected him,s he respected the art he made when faced with life or death; but mostly she respected him because now, he was the father of her child. 

Though her inheritance had been swept up in her genetics, Anastasia was a calm and stoic child — often finding silence when the light of the moon shined right through arched windows. Paris, it seemed, was not affecting the true spirit of Russia from within, after all, Anastasia was born beneath the full moon with a coven of Muscovite women aiding her arrival. Eudoxia thought she was the prettiest, the most beautiful, child she had ever seen. And she had yet to turn three months old. 

His arrival however had been unexpected, and Eudoxia, dressed in fur and linen, blinked thrice before allowing him to materialise in full. Perhaps foolishly, she had allowed the rumour of his appearance in Moscow to go above her head — her mind all too swept up in her babe. She had, in truth, planned to spend the evening in bed materialising all thoughts of what she needed in Paris; she had planned to be alone. So, swiftly, she pushed the golden and ruby ring from her finger into her concealed pocket, knowing that her husband would surely recognise it as coming from the Tsar’s own hand, and approached with her head held high — as if it were a Queen welcoming a favourable knight. 

“Your presence alone is a gift,” she spoke diplomatically, watching as he held his daughter for the first time. He suited fatherhood, he bathed in it — she seemed responsive in his arms and reached up with fat hands before placed back within a cradle. Eudoxia, who felt panic arise, forced herself to act docile. She had hoped for some time before his arrival, for some way to plot and plan what to do, but ever since the birth she had remained muddled, confused, lost. Her ambition was seemingly swept aside for the needs of the child. 

Her eyes, dark and foreboding, lowered to her husband’s hands — watching, as he procured a ring she noted from before. She felt her belly swirl, her blood thumping to the temples of her head — ringing in a headache that’d force her to expel the contents of dinner. “мой муж, волк,” she began, offering Rudolf her hand, pushing it toward him for him to slip the ring upon her. The other, golden and embedded with a ruby, seemed all the heavier in her pocket — warning her, once more, that she was playing with fire. “When did you leave the battlefield? Why did you not send word?” Eudoxia asked, her eyes lifting from the jewel on her finger to match his eyes — blue, heavenly eyes that he shared with his brother, the Tsar. 

Slowly, she traced her steps around the cradle and stood on the opposing side, a hand reaching forth to brush the fattened cheek of the baby. “Anastasia Rudolfovna of House Rurik… your daughter, your blood — she has been awaiting you.”

⚔

———— Their dynamic was a tricky one, discomfort bred of unfamiliarity and displeasure - as Rudolf was quite aware he was not the first choice should she be able to pick which Rurik to marry. It was something he needed to come to terms with, a notion that must be put to rest and not be allowed to sprout for fear of developing contempt between their frames. It was of no import if there was love that rested in the cracks of their marriage, their only duty being to procure heirs to the throne and to follow what his brother would instruct. There was little else that was required of their union and even less so that he expected to come of it. He could not demand that she desire him nor did he believe he held the right to, for she was as free a woman as he was a man. Eudoxia was not a woman who would willingly rest beneath the thumb of a man and he intended to allow her freedoms unfit of a woman of her station - as long as his heirs were produced, he would not halt her activities. Hence why he refrained from prying into her personal endeavors, never asking more than was comfortable of her nightly activities. He was no fool, and these answers would just bring rage in their wake, thus, he decided against the inquiry in the first place.

Her reception of him was surprisingly welcoming but draped in formalities that were expected of his wife and not a result of her genuine yearning to be in his presence. Should she have acted as though her desire to see him was naught, rumors would immediately begin throughout their court. He supposed that hearsay already swirled through the air surrounding their servants, as his wife seemed to clumsily remove something from her hand. Rudolf feigned his ignorance, again not wishing to probe her pursuits outside of their room. He raised his hand in dismissal of the servants, the women moving from the room with haste as he watched his daughter fall back into a peaceful sleep. She carried all the beauty of her mother and the strength of a Rurik, a coming together of powerful forces to bring out the best in them. Anastasia was the most wonderful sight his eyes had ever been made to greet, a miracle in a very tiny package.

At the extension of his wife's delicate hand, he pushed the ring onto her finger. It carried the mark of his family but was different from those by which his brother's carried. A ring laid with a shining sapphire and two black onyx stones, it carried a strange air to it. It was something he had made for her months prior to their marriage but had not the courage to present - for he figured the eccentric design was something she would not prefer to display to those she came in contact with. It was on the battlefield where he had gained the courage to return the ring to its rightful owner, as it had seemingly burned a hole in his pocket when he fought. "I know it is not of typical composition for a wedding ring, though I found the stones compelling and they reminded me of both the eyes which you harbor as well as mine." He mused aloud, standing nearer to their daughter again, as anxiety overtook his usually composed frame.

"I sent word to my brother, but I assume he never found the opportunity to provide such intel to you in the midst of this diplomatic event... It was my thought that you would not give answer should I send another letter, I found too many times you seemed unresponsive... But do not fret, I care not for words sprawled upon parchment, I understand you were occupied with the undertaking of our daughter - sure to have the Rurik fire, she must be a hand full." His rambling was a display of the emotions he tactfully hid beneath the façade he donned much like panoply. There was a loathing that grew daily towards his ruler, one who did not take care to please his family but merely gave into what his desires were. It would be the end of Russia if he continued to be so persistent in his vices. "I must admit, my head was filled with thoughts of our daughter - of you as well, in my latest pursuits. This war is not so easily digested, with so much carnage, our family is the only thing I take solace in... she is beautiful, Eudoxia, far more than I could have imagined."

[blackcreatiives]

Your Muse’s Backstory

1. Where were they born? What is the story behind their birth, if any?

2. Has their living situation changed from when they were born?

3. What occupations did their parents have when they were born? Did this job influence your muse in any form?

4. Did they have any childhood enemies? Any friends? Enemies that became friends?

5. What sort of religion was practiced in their home? Did religion play a role in their upbringing?

6. How many siblings did they have? What was their relationship like? Were they an only child who wished for siblings?

7. What is their fondest memory? Their worst?

8. If they could name the worst moment of their life, what would it be? Did this change them as a person or change how they perceived the world, themselves, and others?

9. If they were to make a timeline with their life events, which ones would they list? Which would they leave out? 10. What was the hardest lesson they had to learn as they got older?

11. What occupation did your character want to have growing up? Is this the same as what they wish to be, or are in, now?

12. Did they face any kind of bullying or abuse growing up?

13. Are there any moments of their past they keep secret?

14. Did they live near extended family in the past? How did this shape their environment? Are any of their relatives near their age? What are their feelings towards extended family in general?

15. Would they rather go back and relive their childhood? Why or why not?

[lskender]

ISKENDER   or   MAGDA

[shroudedson]

⚔ II Closed for @katrinkc​ II Two Wolves and a Dagger

———— The morning lent itself to thought, snow dusting the ground, the land wearing a mask of purity. Yet, his mind was plagued with cynicism, taking over every fiber of his earthy being, as though it was the only thing of note he had learned in his youth. Enjoyment should have been found in the cracks of the summit, yet the picturesque confines of his dwellings brought nothing besides conflicting notions that tore at already tattered seams of composure. He was not built nor accustomed to the life by which he was meant to lead in the coming months. Though successful at most diplomatic things he was assigned, there remained a difficulty in such tasks that often seemed insurmountable. More worthy to sit among fellow men of war, the pursuits of those closer to his stature seemed so far-fetched, they did not contain his full comprehension. He was understanding of their quest for power only if it aligned with his own - for the betterment of their society and not in spite of it. Could these things exist within these men who seemed so audacious and wily compared to those he normally shared his time with? These musings shoved him in the direction of company that would quell his persistent anxieties: his sister, Katrinka.

Compelled to be in her presence, which possessed the fiery spirit of Russia paired with all the refined nature of a true princess, he had invited her to the training yard. She was what he needed to mirror if he were to make significant strides in his current pursuits. He dare not divulge such things to her, however, as she was still likely aligned strongly with their elder brother and would not shift her support to him so easily. This was his feeling towards the bulk of his siblings, their loyalties to him only extending so far. He attributed such wavering ideals to his lack of presence within their lives as they grew. He had been walking his destined path since a very young age, one bred of solitude and conformity, which did not lend itself to forming notable bonds with his family. A traveler without a real home, destined to capture souls of those deemed disposable to accomplish the whims of leaders, he had no claim to their devotion. Thus, his siblings and newfound family rarely acquired the luxury of his time, finding Ivan's far more easily accessible. It was only natural that they should support Ivan's claim over his because he was little more than a stranger who donned the Rurik crest.

Even if he understood that his deeply-rooted affections for them were unrequited, he maintained them. He was concerned about the state of affairs Katrinka had been wed to, the tumultuous opinions the English held of the Russians a dangerous arena for a woman without real power. Out of all of his sisters, she provided the most perturbation to his frame. His other sisters were more weathered by time, having dealt with more intense pain than she. But she was beginning her journey as the heir to the English throne with a partner Rudolf did not see as her equal. The man seemed weak, a mere boy who did not wish to support his wife but rather control her - and who would not defend the Rurik name with proper vigor. Rudolf had seen the hatred of Russia in many a face, brought them to their demise, and no matter how many he killed, they continued to sprout like lilies in the spring.

So, he wished to ensure the safety of his sister if her husband was unwilling to do so, providing her with knowledge of things only the men in their time were made aware of. He had taught her from a young age to be the wolf that she was and to be unrelenting in her strength, despite the world demanding her fire be stomped out. Her ability to protect herself would placate his uneasiness and allow him a good night's rest. His large frame towers over the weapons rack provided by the French king, eyes dashing over the craftsmanship with scrutiny only he could muster. They seemed well made, yet the elaborate designs distracted from the true purpose of it all; to kill. Perhaps it was reflective of French society in general, that they cover their poison in lovely designs so that they seemed less threatening overall. Just as such notions crossed his mind, the crunching of snow beneath delicate feet catches his attention. He turns and is greeted with the image of the little wolf.

Katrinka had grown into someone he barely recognized, her stature filled with such poise it seemed she was merely a woman who resembled the girl he had known. Her raven hair was of longer length than the last time they had met, her brown eyes piercing as though the pain had shifted her. It was astounding to see her a woman grown, but the strings of his heart tugged with embedded disappointment. Not in his sister, but in the system that had clearly provided her with such agony that the light had drained from her soul. He crosses the courtyard towards her, opening his arms in an offer of affection. It is not often he would reach out to her, but he had yearned for her company far more during this past battle than before, so he is acting a bit out of turn. "I have been thinking of you recently, I hope your difficulty in getting leave was naught." He reaches towards her, pulling her into his chest and releasing her a few moments after.

"Come, let us spar." He offers, extending his hand which wrapped around a dagger he had acquired during his travels. "I am sure you have some frustrations that demand to be absconded, let me assist you and then we may talk of your life in England." Rudolf always attempted light conversation around his sisters, unwilling to trouble them with the tribulations of the life he led. Why should women fill their heads with thoughts of war when he was unsure these things were even fit for men? He wished only for them to have lives filled with happiness and freedom from the restraints that bound him - thus, he often avoided speaking about the issues in his own life in exchange for issues in theirs. He only hoped he could provide her with the same peace that she did him.

[shroudedson]

⚔ II Starter for @ivanrurik​ II Bad Blood is Mended with Time

———— Halls littered with portraits of those lost to the tribulations of time found their way into a troubled mind, tormenting the peace which resided within his temple. The tapestries his frame carried him past woven by less-privileged fingers, bright colors boasting of the wealth which rested in this land - yet also bid him recall the lack of such resources within the very communities which constructed them. Was this French king more concerned with the people he ruled, or was he a reflection of his brother - a man whose time was spent in the arms of women and wine? Should he offer respect to him or spit at his feet for such unruly negligence towards the betterment of society? Rudolf was not bred nor raised to develop opinions of kings, brought up only to give care to matters of war; of death. A disposable hound seated beneath his brother's feet, chains restricted the flow of air through his neck, his brother yanking him toward a conformity he could not bear. Was it his father's intent to make his life so agonizingly restrictive, a slave to a system by which he rarely wished to be a part of? His mother had always spun flowery tales of men who won battles so grand they were hailed forever in their legacies. 

Though he excelled at which they yearned for him too, he found little splendor within war. Staring into the eyes of a dying man as his life absconded him required a strength not possessed by most. To know that he, the other, lived a life so complex as his own - that Rudolf, too, could be killed just the same - was an ominous threat he was forced to carry upon tattered shoulders. Such as them, one day he would perish, his body strewn amongst the carnage and eventually thrown into a grave amidst both enemies and friends - as war had a habit of muddling the things they were fighting for, the things they felt worthy of loss of life. When the end came, everything aligned with the basic truths of their species. The core of human desire, the purpose of existence, did not become altered simply by the sword. Things that were ultimately shared internationally, despite their reluctance to admit it, it was their culture and societal norms that shifted the importance onto something else. Perhaps had he been born a peasant man, he would have a family that loved him for his deeper attributes rather than his affinity for war, but it was not something a man with his title could reasonably possess.

Truthfully, he comprehended fully that love was simply not a luxury his kind carried, doomed to harbor nothing for their spouses or to force themselves to procure some shred of admiration from the depths of wounded hearts. They were woeful creatures, the lot of them, designed by those who walked the Earth prior, these notions amplified by Ivan's thirst for power. Had he refused to unite their country, to take lands they held no claim to, he mused his life would be an altogether different affair. Instead, Rudolf was trapped in a union which was orchestrated not by his own hands - to a woman who rarely even offered him a second glance. Emotions were not something often considered by him, his heart donning a gelid distance like panoply, yet there was still some primal desire to be wanted. Branded his entire adult life as second best, he had become the afterthought of the family since his brother's success. No woman truly desired his touch, for he lacked the power which rested in the unrelenting palms of Ivan's hands. How he yearned for his frame to harbor the same love and companionship for his brother as they had in their youth, but circumstance demanded their divide - as though fate willed it so.

Despite these feelings which budded beneath the façade that was endlessly painted across his stern countenance, he did as his brother bid him to, for the ultimate preservation of the country he loved so much. He wished to see their future as bright and prosperous, for his family to be recalled warmly as the best rulers that ever hailed from there. Devoted to such a task, he found himself expertly covering his own desires to shift the throne from beneath his brother to him. That was why he arrived outside his brother's chambers shortly after his arrival, hands running over his countenance to calm the storm raging through his body. He was glad to return to his presence with the joyous news of yet another successful battle, a securing of their borders against those who would see them fall.

When he entered, he was greeted by the sight of his brother bent over maps and various other pieces of parchment. The glow from the fire cast a shadow across his features which mirrored the memory Rudolf held of their late father. The two shared far more features than he had with him, the resemblance so close it was as if one was staring at a ghost. He crossed the room to stand before his brother, tapping his finger along the border he was returning from. "They are defeated and are unlikely to rise again. We did as you said and took what was of most import." He began, his eyes boring holes into the other. "Tell me, brother, have you seen such success while parading through the halls of French court?" It was his tradition to be bolder with him than likely appropriate, as he knew there was little more his brother could press him to do. Should he try to force him to give such respects in private, he would surely build the flames of revolution higher in Rudolf's heart.

[shroudedson]

Closed for @tscsarevna​ 

⚔

————A thick fog descended across the land the day on which he arrived, his form emerging amongst the mist as though an omen of something daunting to come. As if death trailed in his wake, ghosts following his every movement - fingers soaked in the ichor of those left forgotten. Perhaps what was spewed about him amongst battle was correct, he was a bringer of death, sat beside the devil in his pursuits. Thought to even display pieces of hell atop his very own crown, he was likely an unwelcome addition to the current summit - for why would Christians welcome those who danced with the devil into their homes, lest they admitted to being naïve? Rendered a mere man of war, with little else to provide to those around him, he would be looked over if not for his substantial stature. Towering over those he was meant to see eye-to-eye with, he oft wondered if his brother was justified in hiding him from potential political allies. Did he belong in their midst, to dance circles beneath ceilings crafted by the meticulous hands of much softer-hearted men? Where should belong, where did he fit?

In spite of such doubts, the hooves of his ebony steed wore the ground thin beneath his weight, deep-set eyes narrowing at the sight of his supposed lodgings. Russia seemed a world away from France, a far cry from the place he was made witness to - though Russia held its own beauty, they were likely considered savages who were the foils to these 'civilized' men. But there was something he knew that they did not - something which agonizingly plagued his existence in ways they would never experience. He understood what costs it took for them to parade through these large buildings - understood that above all else, they all died and bled the same. No matter the rank, his sword would cut holes into them without discrimination, and he found his real power in such knowledge. Yet, he must play their games; whether it was to wear the clothes his brother bid him to or speak with more flowery verbiage, it was all necessary for his plan's eventual fruition.

As his steed halts, he exits his horse with haste, the sword which persistently rested at his hip dangling against his newly acquired fabrics. Self-importance seethed from his posture as he pushed through the closed doors, eyes greeted by an endless sea of courtiers. Should his brother be among them? Would they be dazzled by the man's inability to communicate and his tales of success? He crossed the hall towards where he assumed the nursery would be, expecting his wife to be tending to their new-born daughter instead of attending the events unfolding. He arrived before the door quicker than he anticipated, his mind running wild with ideas of what he would find beyond it.I have not seen her in months and many letters have been left unanswered... Should I have come or would my death in battle have been a more desirable gift for her?

His hesitance preceded him, causing ample time to pass as he tried to justify arriving at court without providing her notice. There was a doubt within his mind, fueled by unanswered letters and vague replies, that his brother had even alerted her of his coming or that she even cared to be notified. Rudolf could be described as many undesirable things, but a fool was not one of them. Deep within his own heart, he was aware she did not wish to be wed to the second son and had missed her shot at the first. It was a tragic story for her as much for him, the two being doomed to linger within the shadow of his brother and his French wife. With such things rushing through his crown, he did not notice the wet nurse which opened the door to gaze upon him with wide-set eyes.

He had lost his opportunity to enter in secret as she ushered him towards his daughter. The sight of her leaves his mouth agape, lips parting in some display of shock and admiration. Weathered hands, torn by war and woe, reach towards that which is the exact foil of all the doom his eyes have witnessed. I have seen life so often taken by my own hands, I never believed I would too create life so lovely as this. As this thought flutters from his mind, he hears footsteps approach him from behind of which he could place anywhere. He lifted his gaze to look upon a woman who was barely more than a stranger. "I often wonder where you wander so late at night, though I also question my own right to make such inquiries..." His words fall from his lips with bated quality, tongue unwilling to allow syllables to pass unscathed. "I have brought you something if you will have it."

As he gently returns their daughter to her resting place, his fingers dig in finely-sewn pockets, procuring an ornate ring. "I found myself regretting not giving it to you sooner..." He continued, eyes which were pieced together with broken fragments of the sky watching her movements for a clue to her emotions. "I have brought much more, but they have yet to unload it from the carriage... I fear their horses are not so fast as mine." A smirk crept onto his countenance at the thought of the animal gifted him by his younger brother, which was deemed far too wild to be tamed. Perhaps the beast and I find ourselves equally matched, understand each other in ways the rest never could.

[shroudedson]

**Tag dump