beautiful deception

you are what you love, not who loves you.

[zmairinarurik]

JENNA LOUISE COLEMAN, THIRTY, IRINA RURIK. ❝ ⤚⟶ EUROPE, 1458. thanks is given by the GRAND DUCHESS, IRINA RURIK, from RUSSIA. they are at best DEDICATED, and at their worst ENVIOUS. whilst abroad, their ambition is to BE INDISPENSABLE TO HER BROTHERS & FAMILY AND TO MAKE RUSSIA STRONGER. SHE seem/s to remind everyone of JENNA LOUISE COLEMAN & AN ARROW RIPPING THROUGH THE COLD WINTER BREEZE, STRING OF PEARLS, SOFT HUMMING OF LULLABY . ❞

FULL NAME : Maria Irina Zinovia Rurik TITLES :  ( FROM BIRTH UNTIL PRESENT )

Grand duchess of Russia (by birth) Princess of Sweden, Dowager duchess of Värmland (by marriage)

BIRTHPLACE : Russian Kremlin, Moscow AGE : 30 years old LANGUAGES : Russian, Swedish, French, Latin, Spanish, English  DYNASTY / HOUSE: 

Rurik (by birth) Valdemarsson (by marriage)

MOTHER & FATHER : Dmitri Rurik & Vasilia Palaiologina  SPOUSE : ( IF ANY ) Prince Magnus of Sweden, duke of Värmland ISSUE : 

Sveinn Kristoff Magnusson ( 6 years old ) Astrid ekaterina Magnusdottir ( 4 years old ) Kjell Olaf Nikolai Magnusson ( 3 year old )

SIBLINGS :

Ivan, Tsar of Russia Konstantin, Crown prince of Russia Nikita, Grand duke of Russia Katrinka katherine, Grand duchess of Russia, Princess of Wales Youngest Grand duchess of Russia

OTHER : ( NIECES / NEPHEWS, BETROTHALS, ETC )

Vasilia, ( niece ) daughter of Ivan & Adalsinda Mary, ( niece ) daughter of Katrinka/Katherine & Harry of Wales Eudoxia, Crown princess of Russia ( in-law ) Adalisnda d’Anjou, Tsarina of Russia ( in-law ) Harry Plantagenet, Prince of Wales ( in-law )

ZODIAC : Gemina ( May 19, 1428 ) RELIGIOUS AFFILIATION :

Orthodox ( my birth ) Roman Catholic ( after marriage )

ORIENTATION : Heterosexual with very slight biromantic tendencies but she loves dick too much im sorry VICES : envious, impatient, scheming, cynical, mistrusting VIRTUES : dedicated, loyal, eloquent, independent  FACECLAIM : Jenna Louise Coleman HEIGHT : 5′2″ ft / 157 cm RECOGNISABLE FEATURES : dark brown hair, high nose, big round brown eyes. REPUTATION : 

she is not a force to be reckoned with. in russia, she is known for her assertiveness and sharp wit. She often makes appearances in her brothers councils and serves as an advisor. She has eyes and ears all over russian court and is known to be a spitting image of her mother, always by her side. Irina will do whatever it takes ensure the safety of her brother’s rule. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS :

spies in english court - shes sus about it over there and wants to ensure her sister’s position

lovers - she’s basically a free woman now. irina knows she has done her duties to her family and to her husband so she’s chilling and living her best life

enemies - those who oppose russia 

friends - shes doesnt have very many lol but id like for her to have some in lisbon 

coughs husband number 2 maybe?

⇢TIMELINE

1428 - birth of the 3rd rurik child, Ma. Irina Zinovia Rurik, Grand duchess of Russia 1450 - Marriage to Prince Magnus of Sweden 1452 - Birth of eldest son Sveinn 1454 - Birth of daughter Astrid 1455 - Birth of Kjell   1456 - Death of Prince Magnus of Sweden & return to Russian court 1458 - Lisbon Summit

What current conflicts does your character face?

As a young girl, Irina didn’t understand why her brothers were always put first other than the fact that they were older.  She was just as smart, just as strong, and just as intuitive as they were. They were siblings were they not? Then why does she often get told to sit down and watch or embroider some flowers? How was this fair? These were beneath her, the grand duchess wailed, refusing to be treated as such and would not stop her cries until she got what she wanted which was to have the same education as her brothers. She truly was her mother’s daughter people whispered seeing how ambitious and assertive the grand duchess was. Her chin was always held high and knew exactly what she wanted which people saw as intimidating. Irina felt like she needed to put this façade up to be taken seriously even with in her family. It becomes a conflict because at one point it gets tiring. It’s exhausting to put such a cold and hard front but she knows she has to in order for her to survive her in brother’s court— or anywhere for that matter. She had to be strong in Swedish court, establish that she is more than just the youngest prince’s wife. Now that he has passed, Irina continues to fight for her place but now back in Russian court, proving herself to be important but because she’s female and a woman, it makes it a little a harder. She has dreams for herself and for her beloved Russia, which her family has helped build and fortify. Sometimes she wonders is it all worth it? This is what she asks herself continuously.

What are some potential plotlines you are interested in pursuing?

It was always about family for Irina. The things she does, the things she wants to achieve is all for the Rurik family name. Despite her pride, she knew that a marriage outside of Russia was her destiny to which she gracefully accepted to keep Russia’s neighbor, Sweden, as an ally. It pained her greatly to be away from her family but she did it with no complains. Now a widow, she knows that her place is to be a mother to her children and guardian to her eldest son who will inherit his father’s lands however there is still that itch, a desire to more than that, a desire for power. Which was only soothed when her mother called her back to Russian court shortly after his death. She aides her brothers as a councilor, representative, and as a mediator— heavens know what they’ll do to each other. The grand duchess knows that the tsarina is still getting to know the Russian court and by the order of her mother, she helps the French woman assimilate into Russian customs despite of her not so subtle ways. She helps the queen mother oversee and run the court and household. Now in Lisbon, her one goal is to see her youngest sister married. Irina wants to help oversee her betrothal and make sure it’s as powerful as hers to both make Russia stronger but to toughen up her sister as well. In short, Irina finds ways to become indispensible to her brothers, make them see that they need her. She cannot be their equal; She can never be tsarina, no, but she vows to see to it that a Rurik will always be on the Russian throne no matter what.

three bullet-points.

Nobody needed to tell Irina that the Russian court was initially mildly disappointed that the 3rd Rurik child was female. She could see it in their eyes that they had hoped she was a boy. The grand duchess was just as disappointed as they were too. Why must she have to wail and fight for her right to be as educated and skilled as her older brothers? It was not becoming of a grand duchess to learn such masculine activities such riding and archery, they said. But Irina simply did not take no for an answer. She learned these skills, along with languages, politics, and literature, wanting only to be taught the same things as her brothers. Why was she not allowed to have the same education? She was never going to be tsarina anyway, a young Irina argued. Although her brothers were still prioritized, she made sure she excelled to prove to everyone that she was just as capable as them. Deep down the eldest grand duchess envied her brothers; she envied how everything was much easier for them whilst she had to throw a tantrum before being heard.

Assertive and astute, these were attributes she learned from her mother that, to this day, has been engraved into her psyche. Her pride is her strength but it can easily be turned into hubris, which will one day either be the cause of her success or her ruination. If she wants something, she must fight for it. That’s what she has been doing all her life, fighting for what she thinks she deserves. This, in turn, has somehow made her as cold as the snow that falls on Russia, her personality forming around the ideology of being a fighter. She hides the fact that she grows tired of it and wishes things were different. It was a heavy burden to bear and there was no one to blame for it but herself.

Prince Magnus of Sweden, duke of värmland was the youngest brother of the-then King of Sweden. His marriage to Irina kept the Swedish at bay from invading Russia’s territories. The grand duchess wouldn’t say she was exactly thrilled with the match but she didn’t oppose it either. It was commanded and she simply had to comply; she didn’t have much of a choice anyway. She was prepared for her new life away from Russia and performed her duties as a wife, bearing the prince 3 children namely: Sveinn, Astrid, and Kjell. However, the prince died in battle shortly after the birth of their 3rd child. They were only married for 6 years. His death devastated Irina greatly. Though since she bore him children, they get to keep their father’s lands. The 1st year she spent in Sweden after her husband’s passing was very difficult. When her mother called her back to Russia, she hesitated at first but later came home, bringing her children with her. She found strength being in her homeland, and oddly enough, renewed vigour and a newfound purpose.

[zmairinarurik]

𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒔 : closed starter for @tscsarevna​ 𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 : cordeliers convent

when anastasia was born, irina promised she would watch over this babe as if she were her own. like most of russia, she prayed hard for tsesarevna’s pregnancy and successful child birth. irina witness everything. from when her pregnancy was announced to her labor. irina guided her through it all. nothing could replace the pain and joy childbirth gave. it made the grand duchess wonder, had magnus not been taken away from her, would have had a fourth child? maybe? but who knew, right? 

irina stood over anastasia’s crib, gazing upon the child with much love and adoration. like her own children, she was going to grow up right before her eyes. a beautiful sight, she thought. anastasia was going to be beautiful. though that was already a given. “Голубушка, sweet anastasia,” irina hummed with a small smile on her face. “an angel,” irina turned to eudoxia, hands clasping hers. “when your child is born, sometimes all you want to do is look at them, fall in love with every cry and giggle. during your pregnancy you wonder if it is all worth it and when they finally come out, without even thinking twice you realize that it was.” 

not long ago she was in the same position as eudoxia.  she remembered when she first got pregnant, no one was there for her. sure her husband and servants were present but no one guided her. she was told that motherhood was an instinct but irina wished that some helped her through it all; she didn’t want eudoxia to go through that.  “—and how are you, dear sister?” she asked. “please tell me you have rested, hmm?” 

[zmairinarurik]

𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒔 : closed starter for @ivanrurik​ 𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 : cordeliers convent 

[ throwback to russian royal family’s arrival in paris ]

even in paris irina took charge in making sure that everything was perfect for her family. as soon as the grand duchess stepped foot into the cordeliers convent, she went to work. irina oversaw the moving of their belongings, directing which went where, what was to be put into that specific room, and the works. despite being exhausted from the long trip coming to paris, she wanted to make sure the russian retinue was more than comfortable since they were going to stay in paris for a good while after all. 

nobody asked irina to do this, this was a task she took upon herself to do. to the grand duchess, her siblings always came first. a martyr, magnus called her. but irina did not mind, she never minded. 

“ivan,” she breathed out, a small smile on her lips as her eyes caught the figure of her older brother. irina gave instructions to the servant, telling him where the trunk was going to go before she approached the tsar. “the french are generous with the convent they have given us, don’t you think?” though she did not enjoy the idea of having to share it with the french royal family’s extended family but she wasn’t telling him that. “is everything to your liking?” irina asked, looking around. “i oversaw the arrangement of your quarters earlier today— you know i don’t trust anyone else to do that—” she sighed before pausing momentarily brows furrowed as she watched a servant bring in a trunk into the room. “ради Бога! did i not say those went to the children’s quarters? do i have to do everything myself?!” the brunette scolded. her patience was wearing thin and she did not have very many of it too. she turned back to ivan with an apologetic smile, exhaling deeply. “vodka?” irina seemed to need it more than him though.

[zmairinarurik]

crownedprxncess​:

date / time: february 1459, late morning  location: the cordeliers convent, grand duchess irina’s quarters status:closed starter for @mairinarurik​

- &&. A STRANGE SEMBLANCE OF nerves and anxiety permeated Yicheng’s veins. It was a funny sort of thing, getting to know someone through the exclusive use of letters. Back in Lisbon, Grand Duchess Irina of Russia and Princess Yicheng barely had enough time to become acquainted before the summit ended, and the two went their respective ways. The first letter was sent just shy of a week after the summit came to a close, becoming a regular pattern of communication as the months went by. 

Pen to ink. Ink to page; Yicheng felt herself open up within these letters; pages upon pages describing her life growing up in China, her tumultuous marriage, the personal disaster that was the Lisbon summit, her continuing journeys across Europe. She was thankful Irina offered her the same in return, Yicheng awaited her correspondence with Irina with great anticipation, pouring over the words marking the page with elated enthusiasm. But then came the issue at hand.

Of course, Yicheng was more than delighted to discover her newfound friend would be attending the celebrations in Paris alongside her court. However, as Princess Yicheng was escorted through the marvelous corriods of the Cordelier Convent, there was no denying just how nervous she was feeling. Performance anxiety, perhaps? After all, the two had not communicated face-to-face since their introductions at Lisbon, would she find the real Irina different to the one she knew through the lens of her letters. Would Irina find her different?

❝ Grand Duchess, ❞ Yicheng bowls, all too formal. There is a smile painting her face, yet it appears rehearsed, vastly different from the informal tone that decorated their letters, ❝ Irina…it is good to finally see you face-to-face. You are as lovely as ever. Our time together in Lisbon was cut short, but I am pleased to have received your letters over the past few months, they enriched my travels across Europe greatly. ❞  

when princess yicheng’s arrival was announced, the excitement on irina’s face was evident. the grand duchess has met multitudes of people over the years, some she could barely recall even. she made acquaintances for the sake of formality or political gain. in fact, she could only count how many people she truly considered her friends, her family excluded. trust was not something irina gave freely, always skeptical about doubtful about people and their intentions. one could not blame her for thinking this way considering the world she lived in. 

it was sad that she had only met the ming crown princess towards the end of the lisbon summit. who knows how much more she could have gotten to know her had they met earlier on. their correspondence over the past few months made her feel less alone, like she had someone she could rely on even if that person was half way across the world. irina looked forward to receiving and writing these letters, retelling stories or putting her thoughts in to parchment.

“—and it’s wonderful to see you as well! I am elated that you are in france,” the grand duchess exclaimed as she approached yicheng. she ushered the other woman into the room, gesturing her to take a seat.  “it was but we are here now. thank you for letters, princess. they mean a great deal to me. i feel like a little girl whenever i write to you. the heavens headed our prayers, i believe, having us meet once again.” she smiled. “speaking of travels, how was your journey to france? do you find your accommodations favourable? the climate here is much different from that of lisbon’s, dont you think?”

[zmairinarurik]

mariusdanjou​:

STATUS: closed to @mairinarurik​ LOCATION: Hotel Saint-Pol, interior TIMESTAMP: During the Celebrations, February 1459

As celebration littered the halls of the Hotel Saint-Pol (his old home, the old wing named after HIM… rumour had it they had scratched it out in replacement for Philip — at least it was not replaced with Leon’s birth name, that would’ve cut through his skin right to the pump of his heart)., Marius remained alone. Stubbornly refusing company, he walked the perimeter of the grand hall with a goblet in hand, sipping every now and again as his eyes remained narrowed and alert. He watched the ones he had been assigned to talk to by her Holy Roman Empress — the ones who’d make political advances towards her one goal of a Holy Crusade. 

There was but little reason for Marius to approach the Tsardom of Russia, offer than to reach across to the niece he had watched leave the maternal love of France — but he could not see her, and so approached another familial looking woman; he wondered if he had seen her in Lisbon, or in Firenze perhaps. With a clearing of his throat, the Prince of France and Adviser to the Holy Roman Empire stepped forward, shaking off the shadows and ghosts that lingered upon his skeleton. “What a celebration for a long-gone King… I fear France will find itself in the utmost debt…”

irina tried to enjoy herself, she really did. the only amusing thing she has done tonight so far was sip on wine— two goblets to be exact— with the hopes that intoxication would bring out the boldness in her to strike up a conversation with someone to no avail. All she was getting was gas so far. resigned, the grand duchess remained in her corner, watching the festivities happen all around her. she was far from being this dull back in lisbon. maybe her lack of enthusiasm stemmed on the fact that they were in france. could be. 

her brows perked up as a familiar figure approached. yes, she knew him— well, knew of him to be precise. if her memory served her right, he was prince marius, her sister-in-laws uncle? he looked a tad too young to be the tsarina’s uncle, does he not? or maybe she confused him with somebody else. probably.  irina mustered a smile, bowing her head slightly. “the french are certainly living up to their reputation. the glamour and grandeur,” eyes roaming around the hall before back to the gentleman in front of her. she wanted to retort with ‘aren’t they already?’ but thought otherwise; it wasn’t her place to be talking about that. “i am sure they have the means to hold such resplendent celebration,” she feigned innocence before taking another sip. “my apologies but i don’t think we’ve met before, have we?” irina candidly asked, wanting to put a name to his face. 

[zmairinarurik]

adalsindaofanjou​:

Starter for: @mairinarurik​

Location: Cordeliers Convent

As the excitement of the arrival in Paris and the early celebrations started to taper away, Adalsinda felt a sort of weariness following in its wake. The winter months in Russia had of course sapped much of her energy, and the near-constant travel hardly seemed to help her case. She longed for a moment of quiet and rest, simplicity, and she yearned to seek it out by approaching the rooms that had been arranged for the children to stay in. There, at least, Vasilisa, her sweet girl, had playmates in her elder cousins - Irina’s children.

It surprised her, somewhat, to find the other woman there at the same time as her, the twilight hour nearing. “Sister,” she murmured in surprise, her eyes softened a bit as she looked at her. “I should hate to interrupt your time with your little ones. I promise I will not disturb you.”

motherhood was irina’s calling. she knew this long before she married and had a family of her own. irina, after all, took care of her siblings. as the eldest rurik daughter, their mother vasilia, instilled into her all she knew about running a household. there was this joy that motherhood gave that nothing in this whole world could compare. when the invitation for paris came, she was torn between travelling to france with her children or not. the journey would be long and arduous, not suitable for young children. however, she could not bare the thought of being parted from them for far too long. 

every night, she saw to it to tuck them in for bed. Kjell, her youngest, could not sleep unless he held her hands. the grand duchess ran her fingers through kjell’s hair, watching as he slept peacefully. Her head turned at the sound of the door creaking only to find her sister-in-law enter the room. “worry not, they’ve long been asleep,” she smiled. “i just enjoy being in the room with them. one look at them and all my worries disappear. they’re the most innocent when they sleep too. they played all day today with sweet vasilisa,” glancing at her younger niece, the tsarina’s daughter. 

[zmairinarurik]

thebeloveduke​:

@mairinarurik

          Despite his more dour mood, Nikita could not help but quirk a slight smile when he noticed his sister hugging the periphery of the room despite her more outgoing nature. Irina, with all her vibrance, was never one to avoid attention or inserting herself into the thick of celebration, at least from what Nikita could remember growing up. Only two years his senior, when it came time for them to engage in matters of diplomacy and court, Irina had been natural. It was for this reason that to Nikita, her lack of enthusiasm in this celebration was more of a tell than maybe to others. 

      Grabbing two cups of wine from one of the servants that walked about bearing them, Nikita made his way through the crowds to where she stood. Quirking an eyebrow at her, he offered one of the goblets to her, noting her own needed refreshing. 

     “You have never struck me as a shy woman, sister,” he said, turning to lean next to her, watching the celebration. A flash of a darker red hair caught his attention for a moment, like a moth drawn to a flame, but it took just a second for the man he noticed to turn, showing an imposter instead of the man he assumed it was. After a moment of disappointment, Nikita noticed his sister had said something. 

     “Apologies, Nina, I missed what you said. Grant me the indulgence,” he said, asking for her to repeat what she had been saying.

irina lived and breathed functions and parties such as the one she was currently in. back in russia, she arranged almost all of the important events, making sure everything was perfect even to the most minute detail; she was trained by none other than the queen mother herself. some functions she enjoyed whilst some she loathed being in. the mood for night? the latter mostly. she gives credit where credit is due and will admit the event was exquisite from the music to the food. the grand duchess just not particularly fond of the company. of course, as part of the russian royal family and now through marriage, the french, she had to play a part and be present in whatever event they held. 

it was no secret between her siblings that she did not enjoy the french. for what ever reason? their ideals, their drama, irina wanted no part in it. however, power was everything in this political game the ruriks wanted to partake in and in order for them to gain that, france was the most ideal nation to align with. 

a small grin grew on her lips as she watched her younger brother approach, muttering a thank you as she graciously accepted the refreshments he had offered her. “i am many things but shy is not one of them. i simply do not feel the atmosphere tonight,” her shoulders lifted to shrug. “i wonder how much this cost the french,” eyes roaming around the grand room they were in. “are you enjoying yourself at least?” irina asked as she took a small sip. she glanced at nikita, waiting for his response. he looked distracted. she followed his gaze, unsure what he was looking at exactly. “Kita,” she whispered once more. “I asked if you were enjoying yourself,” the elder rurik chuckled. “you were distracted for a moment. Has something caught your eye? or someone rather?” brow perked up. 

[zmairinarurik]

❛ his absence was like the sky, spread over everything ❜

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 :  𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖆'𝖘 𝖗𝖊𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖓 𝖙𝖔 𝖘𝖜𝖊𝖉𝖊𝖓

the travel back to russia was long and quite arduous. not to mention, most of the russian retinue made a small stop over to england before returning to their beloved homeland. it was trips like these where she wished that russia was not so far away. the travel felt like forever and at one point she lost hope that she would ever see land again. russia was as cold as always. when they arrived, the ground was blanketed with snow. a far cry from the warm iberian sun she had a taste of back in lisbon. not one step off the ship and she was already bundled in warm clothes. she was happy to be home. 

rest was a foreign concept in the rurik household. as soon as she arrived, the queen mother put her in charge of arranging the annual festivities for the holidays as christmas was nearing rapidly. she did not have much of a choice anyway. the holidays were busy of course with the unending celebrations. it dragged on too long, irina thought but her opinions never mattered to their mother anyway. despite how joyous the holidays were, irina felt nothing but melancholy, empty almost. 

every year after the holidays, she always made sure that she would return to sweden for magnus’ death anniversary. ‘it was not necessary. a mass would suffice. you do not need to travel to sweden especially not in this weather,’ her mother would argue but to irina, it was more than just that. it seemed only yesterday that magnus was taken away from her, from her children, and everyday she missed him. she saw him in their children. she saw him in the way sveinn laughed, the way astrid would curiously ask about everything around her, and in the way kjell played with masha, fisk, and zoya. three years have gone by and everything still reminded irina of her beloved husband. it was still so painful that letting go seemed impossible. could she possibly ever let him go? 

nostalgia swept over her as she arrived back in värmland. the castle, although well lit and hearth keeping them warm, felt nothing cold. the pangs of sadness and loneliness banging on her chest on irina’s chest. her children were happy to be back in their childhood home. they ran around the castle and even played in the courtyard just like they used to. irina could only watch and wish that magnus were here to see them. 

visiting his crypt was always the hardest parts of the trip. “My love,” irina sighed. “i am here. i am home. i apologize for taking long,” she smiled as tears rolled down her cheeks. “t—the children. they’re here too. they missed home so much. they— they missed you. they’re growing so fast, älskling. you should be here. you should see them. sveinn, astrid, kjell— oh they take after you so much. you should be here.  heavens, i promised not to cry—” but she already was, no longer able ignore the tightness in her chest. her hands traced the top of his tomb as she silently cried, small sobs faintly echoing throughout the crypt. “the fates are cruel. they are. they are. what i would do to still have you with me. in my next life, should such thing be true, i wish to still be with you. God, i beg. i— i miss you so much.” trembling hands covered her mouth as she wept. she thought that it would get easier through time as apparently time healed all wounds but it did not. time does not heal wounds rather it teaches you to live with the pain and everyday irina bears said pain.

[sagamemes]

a slightly altered timeline.   send me  ‘ timeline ’  and a number and i will tell you how my muse and their life would have turned out in a life slightly altered compared to their canon one—same universe, but where something little, or something big, went differently.

the timeline in which they live an ideal life, had no opportunities taken from them, were subjected to nothing terrible, where they grew up to fulfil their full potential.

the timeline in which they never met who would become the most influential or important person in their life, or that person was taken from them before they were capable of forming memories.

the timeline in which something important to them happened in a different stage of life.

the timeline in which they knew beforehand of something they would have prevented if given the chance.

the timeline in which they continue on from the current point in their lives to the best happy ending that is within their reach, where nothing that has happened so far is negated but from now on, the happy things start piling up.

the timeline in which everything that could go wrong from this point on… does.

the timeline in which they never experience the loss that taught them something important.

the timeline in which they gain everything they want, except for the thing they wanted the most.

the timeline in which they live the life they currently see the most likely for them.

the timeline in which something big to them never happened.

the timeline in which something very little happened differently, but it changed a lot.

the timeline in which they had a person in their life when they needed one the most.

the timeline in which instead of the most influential person in their life, they had a person who had the complete opposite effect on them.

the timeline in which they took a chance they didn’t in canon.

the timeline in which they let a chance go by.

[kosemsultanim]

Costumes

From: Victoria, 3.03

Character: Queen Victoria

Actor: Jenna Coleman

Costume By: Terry Herfield

[vhsmeme]

* talk about your muse!

send 🍯 for a food headcanon

send🥛for a drink headcanon

send 🐢 for a mental health headcanon

send 🦄 for a physical health headcanon

send ⌛for a sleep headcanon

send 💕 for a love headcanon

send 💣 for a stress headcanon

send 😵 for a sickness headcanon

send 🤲 for a religious headcanon

send 🏡 for a home headcanon

send 🍬 for a family headcanon

send 💼 for a work headcanon

send ⛈️ for a sadness headcanon

send 😡 for an anger headcanon

send 💩 for a ridiculous headcanon

send 🌼 for a happiness headcanon

[zmairinarurik]

katrinkc​:

She knelt as still as the altar, envisioning pearlescent blessings from Mother Mary but found more comfort, more haze of security, serenity beside her elder sister instead. If she could pull herself through bits of time, string moments up like beads and admire against the sunlight glare, young Katrinka would have laughed at this vision. Skirts fanned around her in rouge deeper than wine that would surely liger against her lip that evening - her smirk, just as tart as the drink as she tried to finish the holy cross, smooth on her forehead, her breast, her shoulders. “Is it blasphemous to pray for the spectacle of mama fainting? She’d always thought herself a saint, I could picture her awakening likened to Christ rising on the Third Day. Think of it- miraculous moment she opens her eyes, expecting her flock of children to make her holy.” An icy eye-roll to the domed cathedral ceiling, padded with a gentle smirk, slicked, gaining traction as it stretched over her features near wicked. She stood, looping her arm with her sister’s, leaning into her as if she were a crutch as they glided out of the cathedral doors, only paying half a mind to peer around at the observers, swallowing their speculation to become immune to it. More the mother than any she could’ve wished for, she felt her sister provided the nurture that she craved from Vasilia.

“Have you heard rumours, then? What’ve you heard about the princess of Wales’ reputation, hmm? Go on. We’re out of the cathedral, gossip’s permitted,” She teased, squeezed Irina’s arm gently, imploring as they greeted the day. She squinted, marvelling at how the sun cast shadows behind the rooftops“Mary’s just like summer. Sometimes, I dream I can pick her up, take her with me to Moscow. Rush back home, like you.” Words hushed, lingered, hesitant. “Or I steal you away so you’re forced to be with me…” Dark-jetted brows bounced, quirking as she asked, “How’re you finding it, then? Russia? Are the boys behaving themselves? Are you enjoying it….? Or anyone?” 

by default, irina became their mother’s littler helper— well, more like minion— being the eldest daughter. for a while, before katrinka and their youngest sister were born, she was her mother’s object of attention being the only girl in the bunch. though not all that much compared on how she shamelessly dotted on konstantin more than the rest of her children. she would describe her relationship with her byzantine mother as complicated. irina inherited her maternal instincts, wit, and strong personality— sometimes even too strong— which adds to complexity of their relationship. however, the eldest grand duchess believed she was far from being her favorite. she understood her sisters distaste for their mother and didn’t blame her too. “katrinka!” irina turned to the younger female, pinching her sides playfully before looping her arms with hers, just like when they were young girls. it was quite hilarious how shorter she was compared to her siblings. “oh more than a saint actually. i sometimes think she sees herself much holier than the blessed mother herself,” rolling her eyes with a small chuckle. 

being overprotective was an innate attribute of hers. irina could not help it. unbeknownst to her sister, she was in constant correspondence with her husband’s uncle, the duke of gloucester. he was her eyes and ears in english court. no ocean could stand against her and her love for her siblings. “no, nothing in particular and certainly not rumors. just facts. just that she is a strong and tenacious woman, ready to take the england by storm,” the sides of her lips tugging into subtle smile as nimble fingers tucked a stray hair away from katrinka’s face. “england doesn’t deserve you. when you are in a powerful position, people will always talk and think badly of you, солнышко. you must remain endure and be resilient no matter what, hmm? remind them that you are a rurik and you will not be messed with.” words were all she could give her sister for now but heaven knew what lengths she would go through for katrinka.

 “maybe one day, солнышко. one day you may bring her home, one day you can come home.” it would be nice to have katrinka back with them. one could only dream. “i am not sure english court would be ready for two russian women but i will admit, i quite like the idea of it,” giggling softly. “my children are not used to the kremlin. they were too excited when we first arrived, unable to take in its grandeur. it was quite the contrast to the castle they grew up in but they are settling in well. their laughs and shrieks echoing through the halls fondly reminded me of our childhood. maybe being away from sweden for a while was much needed after their father passed— for me as well” deep inside, irina was still grieving though trying hard not to show it. “am i enjoying home? yes, i do though i do miss sweden a little. am i enjoying anyone? i think you have me mistaken for konstantin.”

[zmairinarurik]

thebeloveduke​:

          There was only a small handful of people Nikita knew who spoke Swedish. To be more accurate, he knew a good number of people who spoke Swedish for diplomatic reasons, but he knew few who chose to speak it a normal conversation. This is why the language had become like music to the young Russian man’s ears, as the people he knew who were most comfortable with her were his beloved nephews and niece, Irina’s darling children by her late Swedish husband. Although Katrinka had also made him an uncle more recently, Irina had given him the honor much longer ago, her children already familiar and comfortable with him. Even though he had been much younger when Irina was married, he still strove to see her at every opportunity, making sure to dote on her children as much as he could in the same visit. 

     Hearing the delighted squeals as they caught sight of him, Kita gave an apologetic, but clearly ecstatic, smile to his steward and dismissed the man before turning to see his nephew and niece sprinting towards him in the hall. Dropping down to a knee to be closer to their level, Nikita allowed them to slam into him, almost being knocked backward but still enveloping both of them in a hug. He stayed kneeling as his sister approach, offering her a sheepish smile as she gave a mocking reprimand at his more errant presence. “сестра you know I wish I could be here more, even if it is just to see you and my these beloved imps,” he said, teasing the children. They had stopped clinging to him as much, although Astrid had made herself comfortable sitting on Nikita’s knee as Sveinn had draped himself over his uncle’s shoulders. “I am more surprised to hear our dear brothers have not been around as much,” he said, a slight frown on his face, “as I am not the one more prone to trouble. You just know how hard it is for me not to explore whilst we are here, Nina! As if you too are not curious what is beyond the walls of this Palace.”

the grand duchess called nikita her first baby. out of all her siblings, he was the one she spent more time with considering their close age proximity having been brought in to this world just three years after she was. her bond with the youngest grand duke was not the same as her older brothers. in her eyes, nikita will always be her baby brother. it always warmed her heart to see her own children adore him much like she does. there was a softness in his nature that irina always admired in contrast to their older brothers. in a way, she though it good that her children spent time with him, hoping his intelligence and  tenderness would rub off on them. “now now children, give your uncle kita some space to breathe. sveinn, you’re clinging on to him like the little monkey that you are,” chuckling as she let her ladies peel her two children off nikita. “go play in the gardens, my little bears. mama and uncle kita will follow.” irina said in a motherly tone as she kissed the top of astrid’s head before handing her youngest to one of her ladies. it’s only been mere seconds since she’s given kjell but she missed him already. her attachment to her children was unbreakable especially now with magnus gone; each one of them bearing a piece of him. she watched as they ran towards the gardens, as fast as their tiny feet could bring them. the farther they got, the more distant their giggles sounded. 

a small sigh left her lips at her brother’s reply. “walk with me,” irina said— kind of ordered, starting to walk before nikita could even reply, leaving him no choice. “ivan has his important matters to attend to as tsar and well kostya—” sighing once more before continuing, this one much heavier than the last. “busies himself with his own agenda.” she was sure nikita understood what she meant. irina did not bother keeping up with her second older brother’s dalliances. she grew tired of it and sadly has learned to tolerate konstantin’s immoral past time. “so nothing to be surprised about there, лапушечка,” a tight sardonic grin on her lips as she turned to her brother. “it’s alright. we’ve all grown up, haven’t we? no longer children playing in the snow covered gardens on the kremlin.” how fast time flew by. “you’ve always been a curious one, kitya. lisbon excites you, doesn’t it?” looping her tiny arm around his as she turned to her rather tall baby brother (everyone in her family seemed to tower over her. why ever did the tall gene decide to skip her? she will never know.) “well my duties as a mother and over this household has pushed back my itch for curiosity. seeing, i have little time on my hands to go out and enjoy, i will rely have to on your stories. what have you been up to over here, hmm? if they are interesting enough maybe i will go out myself, perhaps take me with you, yes?”

[zmairinarurik]

tscsarevna​:

It was a pleasure to sit by Irina — it was true that despite her relationship with her husband she had always found a friendship with her sisters-in-law. Irina and Katherine had been fond playmates whilst growing up within the strict walls of the Kremlin, leaving Eudoxia to carry such friendships through to adulthood — thriving with them even with her marriage on the side, that always seemed to remind her of what could’ve been and what was not. Dipping her index finger into the swollen bottom of her wine glass, Eudoxia hummed with insistence. It was indeed healthy to hear someone else moan of the weather — leaving her to smile like a child who was finally proved right. With a chuckle, she turned and looked toward Irina with a fondness that echoed with every noise. “Irina my dear, if you run naked through these halls you will have every man and woman foaming at the mouth!” 

And even when she mentioned her husband, Eudoxia did not shy away from the truth. With a grimace, she rolled her eyes and put her wine aside, swapping it for the cooling ale that was more to the weather around them; the liquid offering some comfort to the woman who was far too used to the depth of snowfall rather than the embodying heat of the sun. Honesty burns against her eyes, staring ahead to Irina as her spare hand went to throw back her mass of tight curls. “He comes and goes, as is his nature. Sometimes he entertains my invitation whilst others he finds comfort in whores from god knows where…” Waving her hand in the air, she sipped at the amber liquid, grimacing at the taste — though the flavour did not go alongside her taste, it was cooler than the wine that seemed stilted against the Portuguese airs. “I will go home with a child, Irina — or you may find reason to slap me!” Laughing, she turned to fall into her chair, crossing her ankles beneath her nightgowns, the sheer material an ease compared to the heavy furs that accompanied Russian dress. “Even if I must claw him away from others… I only wish that I had married you, by now we would’ve had an army of children,” Eudoxia remarked, rising her brow in jest. “He is an unloyal husband, I fear he makes a mockery of myself and my house… You should remind him that it is I who helps keep his name so pristine.”

a small snort erupted from her soft lips, leaning back against the plush velvet the settee offered, goblet in one hand as she put herself in a comfortable position. all decorum has left the room, not caring how she looked on the seat anymore, her bond with the tsesarevna was beyond idle pleasantries at this point and so the grand duchess felt nothing but comfort around her friend and sister in-law. “gracious! me showing lisbon my body and all its russian glory? such a spectacle would send my lady mother to an early grave and my dear magnus rolling in his,” letting out a boisterous laugh that bounced off the stone walls. at the mention of her deceased husband, she could not help but wonder maybe, just maybe, had he not perished in the war he fought for his brother, irina would not be in portugal in the first place. she would be in värmland, her children play in the fields just outside the palace there whilst her beloved magnus held her close. “my husband would show himself in my dreams and give me an earful i feel. what i would do to see him again.” her last sentence was softer, a little quieter, a sad smile on her face as she stared into the kindling hearth that illuminated the room. irina could not believe its been more than two years since his death and everyday she’s missed him. 

the rurik female turned to her sister in-law with a remorseful expression. it was the least she could offer the woman for the troubles her brother has caused her. maybe stubbornness was a rurik trait as every one of her siblings had a little bit of it and konstanin would be the epitome. irina blamed their mother’s constant dotting and favoritism of her second oldest brother; in her eyes he could do no wrong hence he grew up thinking that way as well. “kostya is an unstoppable force that even if all of us, his siblings, would join together to stop him it would not be enough. he gets what he wants when he wants it. all of russia sees him as a hero but in my eyes he is but a coward boy refusing to fulfil his one duty: providing russia with an heir. it is his duty as much as it is yours. our sexes always put us in unfavorable circumstances. that is the sad reality of it.” she smiled at the thought of a babe in eudoxia’s arms. maybe if she gave konstantin a child—preferably a son—he would see the error of his ways but irina could only hope. “ha! russia would rejoice at the gaggle of children we would produce had you been married to me instead— while we’re on the matter of children, i’ve been meaning to give you something!” irina beamed, quickly placing her goblet on the nearest table before standing up to pick up the small chest she brought in with her earlier. “here,” she handed it to eudoxia. “inside you will find a pendant with a nordic rune engraved on it. it’s a symbol of fertility. my husbands family’s were said to be vikings—or so i heard. though now very catholic, they still held on to that side of them. when i married magnus, one of his sisters gave me a similar pendant as a wedding gift. it’s sort of a charm,” she explained. “i dont know if it truly works but i conceived 3 children so maybe it does— that or my husband was a fantastic lover,” lifting her shoulders to shrug innocently. 

[zmairinarurik]

glcsterdux​:

“I remember well your Russian vodka, Your Highness.” Katherine had done him no small kindness when she had aided him with his study of her language, but he would be remiss to not also acknowledge the hand that the two years of correspondence with her sister had played in his proficiency. It had served him well at his nephew’s wedding, rudimentary though his grasp at the time may have been — incidentally, it had been the same affair where he’d first encountered the clear spirits so beloved by their Russian compatriots. The smell of it alone could have shed the fur from a hound. “Had I casks of it for my men, we’d have the Welsh, the Irish, and the Scots under heel within a fortnight.” 

He rose from bended knee and gratefully accepted her offer, seating himself in a stiff-backed chair, ornately upholstered. Wine was one of the few indulgences he allowed himself, with nary a thought of rebuffing the younger woman’s generosity. The swig was dark, ripe — a blessed respite from the parching heat of the day, as was the conversational redirection to more pressing matters. The Grand Duchess shared his limited patience for perfunctory displays of pleasantry, a trait which had ingratiated her to him almost immediately. Time was a precious commodity to them, as valuable as silver and twice as useful.  

“Young Katrinka is well-loved by the royal family; both my brother and the Queen favor her greatly, and the people will follow their example. It is our courtiers who insist on acting like mongrels.” One name came to mind with bitter indignation, and Edmund quickly hid the fleeting expression behind the polished lip of his chalice. “I’ll not soothe you with false platitudes. We English are an insular people; we cling to tradition as a wailing child does its mother. My countrymen will kick and howl the entire way, full coffers or empty, but they will follow. Your sister is as tenacious as she is enlightened — in time, England will love her for it.”

Of that, he worked tirelessly to ensure, lest she and Henry go the way of Lianor and his brother, buckling under the strain of an unhappy and unpopular union. 

“And what of your countrymen, Your Highness?” he queried, earnest in his curiosity. “What reservations do they bear for their far-afield friends? I can only imagine what the Crown Prince must think; I’ve remade his acquaintance, he seems quite enraptured by us.” The Duke cannot help the dry humor that dances in his tone, a wry expression hinted at by the upward quirk of his lips.  

from her years of enjoying the clear yet undeniably strong liquor, irina has grown a tolerance to it; it seemed like water almost to her. the fact that vodka was widely enjoyed in sweden as well helped her growing tolerance. one side of her lips curled into a lopsided smile, amused at the duke’s description of russia’s beloved liquor. “you, my lord, have uncovered one of russia’s greatest secrets. our men are buzzed with it going into battle. when taking just enough of it, it can give you immense strength but too much can lead to um— ruination. well, a massive headache in the morning and a nights full of memories gone among other things to be exact. it can bring even the strongest of men to their knees,” irina said a little too proudly. she’s witnessed its effects which were both devastating and amusing to watch. the grand duchess could not count the amount of guests that had to be carried out of the great halls of the moscow kremlin after consuming a little too much of it. 

she was happy to hear that her dear younger sister was beloved and accepted by her in-laws  however the eldest rurik sister had already expected the rest of the court to not be as welcoming, katrinka was russian after all. if there was anything above a foreigner, the russians were that in the eyes of the english. “england must be blind then. your countrymen do not know how to appreciate what russia has offered to them. a little gratitude would have been nice, no? —and the fact that my sister has proved that she capable and is fertile is enough reason to celebrate her, is it not? a shame. however i will take your word on that, your grace. we cannot beg for respect; it must be earned. i know my katrinka and i put my faith and hope in her.” 

when it came to her family, irina’s overprotectiveness came instinctively. there was nothing she would not do in this world to protect them. if she had to fight the devil or beg to God himself for their sake, she would. katrinka was the farthest one out of all her siblings and so it was only natural for irina to worry about her constantly. she was thankful for edmund and their shared love for her. their correspondence gave her much comfort, his updates on her wellbeing assured her constantly.

the grand duchess pondered for a second at his query, unsure what or how to answer him. “what my countrymen thought of yours?” she repeated, eyes fixated in the distance as dainty fingers traced the rough skin of her strawberry before bringing it to her lips. “we don’t think of them.” irina concluded, biting into the plump fruit as her gaze returned to the duke. “england is an ally unless proven otherwise. we only care about the welfare of our own and that is katrinka. russia is a mighty nation that can withstand anything. we are made from the harshest of winters and if we see or sense that harm may befall on one of our own, we wont hesitate to strike,” meaning every word she uttered. “pay no heed to what my brother says. i, for one, do not necessarily share the same sentiments as him. he is a brilliant military man, brave and bold. sometimes too bold. tactless. his brain and mouth tend work separately instead of concurrently,” rolling her eyes as she spoke. she will not apologize for the actions of her brother, it wasn’t her job to do so. 

[zmairinarurik]

mihrimahsultan​:

location : palacio dos estaus gardens timestamp : august ninth, 1458… early ‘noon status : closed to @mairinarurik​

Accompanied by her ladies, Mihrimah went to roam the path that stretched beneath towering trees, leaving her to ponder as if she were made of the very nature she admired as she contemplated her day in silence. Her ladies were fine, but they were a bore — leaving Mihrimah to fend for herself or to seek entertainment which was unbecoming of a Sultana and daughter of Iskender. Taking a seat to the side, the Sultana took care not to stretch her satin and asked for her ladies for the small work of weaving they had brought on the walk; a miniature that’d act as a sketch would paper and charcoal, a few loose threads acting as wet paint for Mihrimah to touch up. Lost in the dream heavens she had created with wool and spun silk, she almost missed the noise of another, eagerly lifting her head, then her feet to stand before the woman. Dressed in attire one could only describe as Russian, Mihrimah smiled and passed her weaving aside to her ladies, raven soft curls framing her face, her veil passing before her eyes. “Good afternoon, what a pleasant day!” She exclaimed, leaving her translator to find Russian before gesturing for her to take a seat. 

since her arrival at lisbon, irina has only left the comforts of the palácio da ajuda a handful of times. taking care of her children who, like herself, was still adjusting to the sudden change of location and weather was her top priority. there were many things to be done in the russian household and it was her duty to oversee that everything, even in lisbon, was going ship-shape. the grand duchess thought today would be a nice day to venture out into the famed palácio dos estaus, where everyone seemed to have gathered and met up— not that irina had plans to see someone particularly, she just thought it was a nice change of scenery. who knows? she might meet someone new. much to her delight, she did. she took a stroll in the gardens of the palácio with her ladies and stopped at the sultana’s greeting. “indeed it is,” she smiled politely. seeing it rude to refuse her offer, the grand duchess took the seat, hands folded neatly on her lap. “it’s very lovely,” irina complimented, “your weaving.” it was expected of a lady to learn how to weave however the grand duchess simply had no patience for it. what would weaving offer a political woman such as herself? “i don’t think we have been acquainted.” stating the obvious though she could very much tell that this lady was someone of status and of the ottoman empire— her retinue ladies and clothing gave that fact away. “my name is irina. grand duchess of russia. thank you for inviting me to sit with you.”

[zmairinarurik]

↳  𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖆𝖌𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖒𝖆𝖌𝖓𝖚𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖌𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖉𝖚𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖘𝖘 𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖆

in 1449, word of that the swedish army plans to march on russia’s western borders where the old novgorod republic lied, claiming back the lands they once had. sweden conquered denmark and norway in the previous years, these two neighbouring nations now under swedish rule. due to the fear of losing russia’s territory, a marriage between the eldest grand duchess irina of russia and the youngest swedish prince magnus, duke of värmland, was brokered thus forging an alliance between these two countries and furthering their influence and increase in wealth. in 1450, the prince and the grand duchess were wed in sweden, sealing this agreement. the couple lived in värmland where the prince ruled as duke along with their three children sveinn, astrid, and kjell, until the prince’s untimely demise in 1456. their oldest son, sveinn, inherited the title of duke of värmland however since he was too young to reign over the duchy, his mother, grand duchess irina, serves as regent. 

♔ issues: 

sveinn, duke of värmland

astrid of sweden

kjell of sweden