;the sanctification of the king
——— Wretched France, calling back to her with its dark tendrils that promised glitter, gold, and gossip. It was to be a sumptuous affair, of that there was no doubt, and the country that once enticed her now just filled the young woman with dread and loathing. How the vapid country with its golden paintbrush would brush it all away, filling the cracks in with shiny lacquer to create a smooth surface though everyone knew the struggles that lay beneath.
And they would hate her being there, just as the black she bore on her heart for France would not be so easily hidden by rouged cheeks and a smile. She was a reminder of the past, one who had so closely brushed with France’s very own Icarus. Truly, it’d probably never be completely safe for her in this country again. There were no titles for the former, former Princess of France after all.
It would truly take all her wit to stay afloat here. Enemies on enemies, not even pretending to look like friends, that was the French court she was stepping into. It was to be a task to put her blinders on, ignoring the sneers and stares of the French, but in many ways, she was beyond them now. This time, when she came to France it wouldn’t be as a new Princess, green and inexperienced, it’d be as a woman fully embracing her birthright. The Anjou name had never suited her anyway — she was a Medici, the latest in a long line of bankers, politicians, and schemers.
Authenticity. It was something she’d been searching for her whole life, trapped in the annals of female nobility. But Portugal had seen the death of that woman, clinging to the need of family, and from the ashes clutching an annulment and a complete break from the norm had risen: Caterina de’ Medici, not just a woman from a noble family, but a woman who had spent her entire life steeped in the business and politics of money. It was the Medici lifeblood after all, the bank, and one perk of falling so far was not having to claw your way back up.
Tainted. To some, it would be a death sentence, but it had set Caterina free to be her brother’s counterpart in the bank. The possibilities that had once seemed a cavernous pit now shone with the gleam of gold. Wretched France was about to meet wretched Caterina — older, wiser, and with absolutely nothing left to lose.
