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𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐓 the side of her eldest sister all the time. It was a way of showing her how sorry she was for missing a commitment with her. She didn't know how she feels about horses, there was a mix of hate and love at the same time. And she is not the one for bets, however, she found other ways to have fun. Like dancing… It was when she had taken a break from dancing, her cheeks pinkish of the heat of her own body, and she noticed a tall woman with a very beautiful dress. Was she the Tsarina? ❛ Nice outfit, your majesty. ❜ She complimented her genuinely, not an ounce of fakeness in her tone. Barbara likes fashion and likes to see the style of people around there.

@frvgcleternty

#frvgcleternty #( — amara romanov. )#( — event: off to the races. )

as footsteps draw closer , her eyes snap to attention , hands casually clasped together as a figure rounds the corner . " oh , thank goodness ! " arushi rushes closer to @frvgcleternty @twitchywitchys @gcldforged , brown doe eyes wider , rounder than ever . her plan may have been foiled by the appearance of another person , but she would make the most of it . " perhaps you might help me . i've been completely turned around . " a lie , yes , but a harmless one . even with the lock - picking tools hidden in her skirts , as always , her mission in this instance had only been to eavesdrop .

#𝗔𝗥𝗨𝗦𝗛𝗜　:　dialogue #frvgcleternty #twitchywitchys #lionsprcdes #gcldforged

@frvgcleternty | Zian and Araminta, Hours After The Return of the Search Party

Was it not just a few nights ago, when they exchanged thoughts on what might come to fruition? Settled in front of a fire, talking of their nuptials and family plans. Debating whether the oncoming war is worth England's alliance with France. And just as well, the answer comes in a torrid few days. Even as a child, Araminta's cool and level-headed nature extended to the worst parts of life. Close calls with those attacking the royal family. The too-early death of her father, coinciding with Rhysand's youthful rise to power. She does not break, does not shatter. The pinnacle of calm, stiff, British upper lip. The same is true upon Zian's return. She is quick to him, relief and gratefulness in one fail swoop. But Araminta does not cry, she does not yell. She is a dutiful, calm betrothed in the wake of an infirmary crawling with them. A pliant hand on Zian's as the physician tends to his broken arm, while running a warm washcloth through his soot-covered features.

When the worst is over and the Crown Prince is directed back to his apartments, Araminta is present still. A newfound target, wherein her own stress and exasperation may fall. "You should have never been out there alone." Araminta expresses bitterly, whilst preparing Zian a cup of traditional Chinese tea. "What is the point of a brother and his oh-so-great military experience, if you are left to fend on your own?" It's her own way of coping - the cold, vicious mean girl that sprouts from her temper. "It is unacceptable. And the Emperor? He is no worse for wear. A silly figurehead while his own heir honors his obligations. It is laughable, really." Araminta finishes his tea off just as he takes it, and slots it in his healthy hand.

#muse: araminta #(zian and araminta)#frvgcleternty

@frvgcleternty | Valencia and Alistair, The Evening of The Kidnapping

Something is off in the all-too human noise the French soldiers make. It's an odd congregation; the military advisor to Russia, the Sultan and consort of Iran, and the English King's right hand man. But together, the pieces of uncertainty fit together. And in the wake of it? A cold chill settles in, as whispers and moves are determined. This needed to be handled with discretion. And fortunately Alistair, despite the heavy drink of the past few days, is a sharp thinker even with blurred edges. He makes the proper moves, duty bound by his friendship; he informs the King and secures the Windsor's in their chambers. He ensure Meredith and Robert are well in hand. He accounts for anyone caught in the main hall. And after duty is done, he is fast on his feet, storming into the Holland's Apartments. Whatever occured between him and Valencia clearly does not travel to her lady's, who allow him in. "Call your guards back to duty, and man them at the door." Alistair commands in the sitting room, before pushing through the all-too familiar doors he has many times before.

If there is a moment of missing, a moment of regret... It is awash in seeing Valencia, still standing strong. No harm has come to her, at least. For a moment, he is speechless, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. It's the first time he looks at her since their last conversation, and his chest tightens with longing. And just as quickly, it comes undone, pragmatic in times of grave darkness. "There is danger." Alistair informs her, approaching closer as his eyes remain unmoved. "It's a conspiracy, and everyone at court is caught in it. The Palace is under siege. The Bourbon's royal guard has fallen to imposters. No one in, no one out." He places his hands on her shoulders before thinking, a somber look upon his face. "They are keeping a handful of royalty locked in the main hall... Including your sister, Anna." Alistair's eyes dart about her room, looking for her things. He drops her shoulders, a man of action rather than sentimentality when it comes down to the wire. "You need to get dressed. Now. Your cloak. Your riding boots." Alistair lists off, pulling them from her trunk of clothes on by one. "You must prepare to run if it comes to it."

#muse: alistair #(valencia and alistair)#frvgcleternty

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 the game, it wasn't the first time she played chess. She was used to playing with herself, but finally, she found somebody on the court who liked good chess. Adrian Romanov. She hummed thoughtfully as she was looking at the board, moving a piece from it. ❛ Check! ❜ She moved the queen from its square. If the pieces move correctly, then her next move might be a 'check-mate'.

@frvgcleternty

#frvgcleternty #( — adrian romanov. )

@frvgcleternty | Valencia and Alistair, Late Night at Valencia's Chambers

"Well? How was it?" Alistair asks by way of greeting, whilst she pushes her chamber doors open. Unlike the grandiose Versailles, the Bourbon's many country chateaus are simpler in nature. With distances between them and an air of ease in the countryside, it's been easier for Alistair to go back-and-forth between his chambers and Valencia's. And though it is difficult to put their relationship into words, the routine of it is easier to understand. One way or another, Alistair ends up waiting in Valencia's chambers. This evening, however, he waits with a purpose. "What did you think of the King of Prussia?" Alistair prods, while seated on the edge of her bed. His head leaning against the bannister, watching Valencia's expression with close inspection. The idea, and the match, is a smart one by all standards. Rumor has it that while the King of Prussia is not the brightest of rulers, he is well liked by his constituents. That - and he has a kingdom closely aligned to France itself. Valencia could hope for no better option. And he said as much, when she posed the question.

Unfortunately, there is no accounting for the twist in his stomach at the sight of the two sharing fucking tea. But be that as it may...

"I am certain he's enthralled by you."

#muse: alistair #(valencia and alistair)#frvgcleternty

@frvgcleternty | Valencia and Javier, At the Gardens of the Races

There is a chain reaction set off, that lands the King and Princess by each other's side at the races. A word from his advisor, who heard from a lady's maid, who confirmed through the Netherlands' own valet. The youngest Holland Princess was interested in a tet-a-tet. But it is no regular conversation. Rather, one loaded with flirtatious intention. The Princess Valencia is not the first - many Princess' and noble ladies alike have broached the topic since the fall out of his own betrothal. This time, however, Javier finds himself saying yes. If only, because of the blond Princess' reputation for being an innocent darling of a woman.

Yet it is an hour into their meeting, that Javier determines three fundamentals. First, the Princess Valencia is not a doe-eyed beauty but a fierce thinker (at least based on the way she assesses the many bets being made). Second, her attention is not formed because of Javier's good looks and crown (as charming as it was). Third, and perhaps most important of all, she is far too consumed with another to fall for any of his easy charms. "Valencia." Javier interrupts coolly, amidst some painstakingly dull conversation about French-Prussian politics. "May I ask you a question?" He does not wait for a response, but rather, smirks easily. "Who is it? Who's the love you are trying desperately to forget, by getting on with me? Come now, don't be shy." He shrugs, gingerly pouring whiskey into his teacup. "I shall tell you of my great love, if you tell me yours."

#muse: javier #(valencia and javier)#frvgcleternty

@frvgcleternty | Zian and Araminta, Late Night at the Palace Courtyard

The change in the weather is enough to draw anyone into Versailles' impressive courtyard. But the list grows shorter, when it is well past midnight and most of the Palace staff have gone to bed. In the quiet fresh air, Araminta can think. Or rather, ruminate. It's days, now, since hers and Rhysand's last conversation (if she could call it that). A time that, though short, feels like an eternity for the thick-as-thieves siblings. And though she is known for her level head and unmovable heart, it stings nonetheless.

That, and the realization that her brother is to welcome another child in the world.

What part could she play in that, now that she's set for the South China sea? Her decision to leave remains, for when she makes promises, she makes them for certain. Still, the distance hurts, and in that she feels almost lonely. "Who is it?" Araminta calls out, at the rustle of leaves and the sound of footsteps. Blinking, her eyes shift into warm recognition, catching her betrothed out in the moonlight. A thought, unabashed and girlish - did he seek her out, because he wished to be back in her arms? "Well, well, well." Araminta teases, summoning a smile despite her melancholic mood. "Have I caught you on your way to a late night rendezvous?" She chides, though it means little. Araminta knows of Zian's sincere and loyal heart.