#stewahrt

[ofcolonna]

status: closed for @stewahrt location: scottish audience chamber within the hôtel saint-pol

with his usual air of confidence and charm, julius stood with a tall posture and confident hands folded together behind his back as he awaited in hope that the scottish queen would accept his request for an audience. whilst there was no shortage of rulers and courtiers who sought to meet with rome's de facto ruler it was those who were in no such rush that caught the roman's attention. not out of ego or seeking to discover why they did not wish to meet with him in the most urgency but he often found that those more casual meetings were to be the most pleasant and lacked in guarded behaviour.

at the announcement that came in the form of heavy doors opening, julius immediately lowered his torso into a modest bow and remained so for a moment longer than necessary. " your majesty, if you seek to dismiss my presence then i will happily depart, i ask only that i might bestow gifts from my beloved rome unto yourself ... " with the gesture of a hand two servants stepped forward to accompany him, one holding in their arms a medium-sized barrel whilst the other held carried a silver plate with various items upon it. " wine - from my own vineyard in rome, you will taste no better - and perfume and creams. admittedly my wife had a hand in the latter, the profumo-farmaceutica in rome is her favourite in this world and the dominican friars who use their skill to make such goods are truly the best at their craft. "

[ofanjous]

tagging: @stewahrt !!

location: scottish apartments, hôtel-saint-pol !!

the sojourn to france had been an interesting venture thus far filled with the expected and unexpected. in the lead-up to the summit, there had been some trepidation for isabella, the prospect of returning to her homeland surprisingly daunting. it had been some-twenty years since her pious feet last stepped foot upon the soil of her homeland and whilst heiress to the duchy of anjou and with royal blood within her veins, her father's tempestuous relations with her sovereign cousins, were seemingly the least of her problems. needless to say that the opinions of others mattered little to the she-wolf of france, yet her return as an exiled queen cast a glaring shadow upon the sense of entitlement she often exhibited. it would not take a mystic to determine her motives in paris, she would be expected to humble herself before the monarchs of europe ( and potentially beyond ), to curry favour in hopes that they may lend their coffers and swords to her cause. a daunting endeavour lay before her, yet if any of it weighed upon isabella's mind, she gave little insight that night.

the evening was spent in the company of her daughter, a favoured past time of isabella's laid before them on a ornately decorated chequered board. figures of gilded ivory and embossed mahogany moved across the board with great skill by the elder of the two women. "you are distracted, elizabeth." she spoke, breaking the comfortable silence within the room. she need not glance at her daughter to deduce such a fact, she could sense elizabeth's troubled notions across the small distance between them. "is it our presence here ? or perhaps the presence of another..." raising her line of sight to fix upon the younger, isabella's look was knowing. "the king has brought his whore with him – something i find as distasteful as you do, my dear. but do not take my apparent tolerance as acceptance to your plight."

[theouranias]

the late evening of a day in july of 1432 , accompanied by elizabeth of lancaster ( @stewahrt )

WHEN CATHERINE HAD LEARNED of her father's marriage, she had not known how to react to the news at first. A Scottish princess was to be her step mother? Whoever the woman was that married her father after the death of Lady Catherine's mother would be higher in rank than she, but Catherine did not know how much she liked her father marrying a princess. Someone so much higher in rank than Catherine. Perhaps she did not wish for there to be another in her father's life, though she would not admit that.

The one thing that would come out of meeting her step family would be the Queen of Scotland, who was not even Scottish by birth. Catherine had spent a good amount of time in Wales, which caused her to be quite knowledgeable in the world of English politics due to their proximity. Queen Elizabeth was a Lancastrian woman, her dynasty ousted from the throne. From a few short conversations with the woman, Catherine had become accustomed to her mannerisms. The Queen was a kind woman, at least from what Catherine could tell of her.

This was the particular reason why Catherine felt no nerves when Queen Elizabeth had requested her audience. By technicality, they are related, yes? Her step aunt, though she had never met the woman before many members of the peerage and royalty came to France. "Your Highness," She would said, Britanny accent smooth against her English words. A language she did not prefer, as Catherine felt she could truly voice herself in French and Latin, but she was unsure if Elizabeth's French was conversational or not. "You requested my presence?" Catherine asked, brown eyes looking up, her black and gold colored skirts pooling on the floor as the curtsy lowered.