#thequeenofscxts

[tullyhaired--archive-blog]

( STUART ♔  MARY )

                       Her JOURNEY had been long    && her arrival at french court                         had been a quiet one.     One single trumpet to announce                        the arrival of a NOBLE.              Alayne Stone the BASTARD                         daughter of Lord Petyr Baelish, coming to SERVE the young                        QUEEN as her lady.   ( her ‘FATHER’ had filled her in on his                        D E A L I N G S      with     the     FRENCH    crown    &     the                        SCOTTISH QUEEN. ) && only KING & QUEEN were aware                        of her situation.                          ( they have SPIES here too. )

                 She is escorted to a private chamber instead     of    the                        THRONE  ROOM   where   a   beautiful   brown  haired  GIRL                        no older than her brother ROBB had been awaited.               &                  She kneels before the Queen. Solemn expression                        adorns Tully features  MASQUERADING beneath   a  curtain                        of lying common brown hair. Baelish had thought it safer                        to travel that way.       Her true identity shows in her  ROOTS                        though. In the way she raises ---  there is a GRACE       in her                         attempts to conceal the SORROW in blue eyes when meeting                        HAZEL ones for the first time. 

           ❛ your grace; it is most gracious of you to welcome me into your                  HOME when not many would. I  shall  be   forever   in   your  debt. ❜

[perennialiniquity]

             ❝ A splendid evening, is it not? ❞   

            The little intrusion, he discerned, might be forgiven. Given she was             currently entertaining  merely  the company of her ladies in waiting,             and the night was far too  pleasant  for serious matters,  Elijah had              begun his careful approach. Three nights had passed since he had             arrived upon the steps of the French court, and he had not gained             the opportunity to meet the young  Queen of Scotland,  though he             had certainly surmised no lack of information about her person.

                   Yet, the truth can only be ascertained upon encounter.

            The Harvest Festival’s celebration transpired in the courtyard below,             the lit torches cast flickering amber shadows upon the women as he             nodded to each of them in turn. Still his gaze was drawn to the  one             who carried both title and presence.  He inclined his head, drawing             his arm out in a small bow.

             ❝  Good evening, your highness.  I’ve found myself most earnestly                  hoping to cross paths with your person ;                                                                                if my timing is not inopportune? ❞